Random oneshots
by drawingdisaster
Summary: A small collection of stories and drabbles featuring various League champions and a variety of genres ranging from comedy to drama and maybe even tragedy at some point. P.S. I am so proud of the title.
1. Kleptomania

0000

Annie smiles, the biggest, sweetest, most awesomely delicious ice-cream cone resting in her tiny hands ready to be devoured by the young firemage. Morgana, culinary extraordinaire and proud creator of said cone is staring at her expectantly gesturing for the child to try her new frozen delicacy. The child smiles, an innocent beam of happiness and purity almost shooting out of Annie's face, she brings the frozen piece of heaven closer to her lips and opens her mouth ready to taste this vanilla scented piece of heaven, when…

"Mine!"

Pale hands shoot towards the cone and both mages can only watch in terror as Vayne suddenly jumps out of a nearby bush and snatches Morgana's latest masterpiece, promptly tossing the poor cone in her ravenous mouth before snapping her jaws shut, eradicating the tasty treat for all eternity. Morgana is speechless, Annie is sobbing, Shaco is playing chess with Veigar.

The Night Hunter promptly dives into another bush and disappears, droplets of sweet ice-cream and despair the only thing remaining in the once peaceful bakery. Well, along with the shattered remains of the Dark Child's heart and a furious fallen angel, that is. How is Morgana supposed to lure Annie towards the dark path of forbidden magic and human sacrifices without a proper cone of ice-cream! What in Zed's _hello kitty_ pajamas is she going to use now, cookies? Preposterous! Teemo just stares at the crying toddler and nods his head in approval.

* * *

0000

It is a beautiful morning in the Institute of War, the most spectacular place in all of Valoran. The birds are chirping happily, the golden sun is shining, radiating warmth and light and Urgot is trying to eat a lollipop, fruitlessly slamming the damned cherry colored piece of candy against his advanced hextech breathing device. His desperate attempts don't seem to be that successful so far, there are in fact a complete failure.

The undead marksman sighs, creepy muffled sounds occasionally coming out of the complex hextech mask obscuring his face and any stumbling observant that would so happen to walk by would have to pay close attention in order to realize that the Headman's Pride is sniffling quietly almost on the brink of tears. Why couldn't his mask be designed with the comfort of the user in mind instead of just looking frightening? Why was a sword-hand so hard to operate? Why didn't Riot just rework Yorick already?

Those and even more important questions kept crossing the forgotten champion's mind, highlighting his pathetic existence like one of Jinx's explosive firework bombs meticulously planted in the High Summoner's bathroom only to be detonated at the right moment, destroying the room in a breathtaking explosion of light, sparks and… well, brown stuff.

Anyway, the poor unpicked champion was still lamenting his cruel fate when the rustling coming out of the nearby bushes alerted the marksman of the potential existence of an intruder. Urgot growls, a mutated choked sound already escaping his mechanical gas mask, his rusty, unused (since no one picks him) blade-hand raised in order to meet his new adversary, lollipop still tightly clenched in his deadly goo cannon's pincers.

A sudden swift behind him makes him snap his head towards the heinous lollipop thief, the rest of his upper body rotating unnaturally in order to improve his fighting potential. A single thought keeps echoing in the villainous brain of one of Noxus most notorious executioners (the pretty one, Draven is ugly)

Must. Protect. The. lollipop.

"Mine"

The demented whisper reaches the man-thing's deteriorating ears a moment too late and the Headman's Pride can only gasp in shock because Vayne is currently standing just in front of him while smiling softly, the bloody mask of the undead abomination casually hanging from her pale delicate fingers.

Urgot blinks and then pauses, it takes him a moment to realize the consequences of the Demacian woman's actions, but when he does he flashes one of his best, friendliest smiles at this magnificent creature, no angel! Shauna Vayne is an angel of happiness, a godly, compassionate being of light and purity finally appearing before him in order to shed some much needed light in his dark, grim, ugly, gross, sad, insignificant, unpicked, ( did I already mention sad? ) and pitiful existence and anyone that says otherwise is going to feel the heat of his deadly corrosive snot canon!

The Night Hunter smiles, the man-thing smiles, the lollipop sweatdrops and then Urgot suddenly collapses on the floor, his frail body failing him as the last traces of oxygen slowly leave his weakened system. The marksman coughs and spits, suffocating quietly and there are traces of acid spilling on the floor under his chin, his blurry green eyes start losing focus even as his hand-cannon moves weakly, bringing the strawberry lollipop right in front of the tormented man's face.

His mouth opens, the pale white tongue darting out of his mouth, desperate for a taste of sweet red sugar-flesh, the first piece of candy he will finally be able to taste in two sugarless decades, and then abruptly a pale blurry hand suddenly enters his field of vision and snatches the candy away. A victorious roar and the sound of receding footsteps are the last things the confused marksman hears before his undead mind finally shuts down and his brain functions cease completely, carrying him into the peaceful land of darkness. And then a sinister voice suddenly booms right next to the poor man-thing's ears.

"Mine"

* * *

0000

Nami is beaming with happiness, a beautiful smile adorning her equally beautifish face as the young marai happily drifts towards the port near the Institute, her precious prize tightly pressed against her average cream colored bosom. She finally did it! She finally found the fabled moonstone! The magical artifact capable of shedding light in the darkest caverns of the ocean, the elusive magical gem needed to save her people from the terrors lurking in the inky black depths of the sea.

Who would have thought that the magical object would be in Diana's possession? (Who really?) And who would have thought that the last remaining survivor of the Lunary would be kind enough to trade the mystical gem in exchange for Nami promising to hand out leaflets and preach about the glorious power of the moon to her people upon returning to the subaquatic city. Although the young marai was kind of curious about the weird, obviously printed text right under the magical artifact's surface spelling _Made in Piltover_ in thick black letters. Diana had also whispered something about battalions? battalies? battleaxes? Nami wasn't so sure but seeing the reassuring glow of the stone convinced the young marai that Diana's guilty mumbles couldn't probably have been that important.

The naïve mermaid had almost reached the port by now, the faint rocking silhouettes of various ships and vessels dancing across the waves, already visible in the distance. The young woman was already imagining the happy smiles adorning the faces of her parents and close relatives upon returning with the precious Piltovian moonstone, when all of a sudden an unexpected collision with a fellow league champion abruptly brought her back to present.

"Sorry, Shauna. I was kind of distracted and didn't watch where I was going."

"That's ok, we all make mistakes after all. Just be more careful next time."

"I will, I promise, but I have to go now."

The Night Hunter just nods and bids her farewell and Nami just waves at her ready to continue her journey when she abruptly freezes, the absence of an important gemstone suddenly evident in the young marai's eyes. She snaps her head towards one direction and then the other, her gaze darting between the rugged sailors and the salty cobblestone floor, her eyes already watering, filled with bitter tears.

"No, I... I… have to bring back the moonstone, I... I have to save my people. Everybody depends on me."

A sniffing sound coming right from behind her suddenly draws the marai's attention and Nami stiffens, her eyes wide like saucers. Someone is sniffing her hair. Another sound, this one a wet drawn out slurp and Nami whimpers, the first silent tears already spilling out of the young sea maiden's eyes, silently rolling down her cheeks even as a wet red tongue slowly starts dragging its way up her vulnerable earlobe leaving a wet trail of sticky saliva all over the poor mermaid's face. A dark lustful growl suddenly reaches the terrified support's ears.

"Mine"

* * *

 **I don't even know, I just woke up today and wanted to write a story about Vayne popping out of bushes and stealing things, she was also supposed to steal Valor, but I was getting kind of bored so I stopped here. Should I be worried?**


	2. Arcade world

Miss Fortune shot the last mindless puppet and then paused, cool baby blue eyes calmly inspecting the vast scenery ahead of her. Lively green plains stretching widely as far as the eye could see, small blocky pixilated clouds moving across the sky raining down glitter on any unlucky pedestrian that would happen to pass by, square images vaguely resembling of trees, rocks and weird exotic flowers were carelessly dumped all over the place completing the bizarre scenery. Nothing new or even remotely interesting really, the scenery hadn't even changed a bit since the redhead's last inspection almost two weeks ago.

This world seemed static, mundane even, a complete and utter wasteland filled with lifeless minion-dolls disguised as enemies. The very land itself was almost giving off the vibe of a failed experiment carried out by some peculiar deity, as if said god had used this world while trying to create new life forms and then abandoned the whole project after he inevitably screwed everything up and his peers deemed the project a failure.

It was ok for a first attempt and Sarah would even give the clearly inexperienced deity a passing grade if not for the repeating themes continuously occurring all around her.

The sun was always up in the sky all day long, most hilltops and plains looked the same and the bounty hunter was in fact pretty sure that all if not most of the enemies that she had fought and defeated so far were the exact same dolls baring the same vacant faces and bored expressions for example. The whole thing seemed… Lacking.

There were endless green hills as far as the eye could see filled with peculiar unmoving grass blades, odd caricatures of living creatures roaming the land carrying tiny swords and magical wands spiting odd pixilated fireballs and undrinkable rivers filled with stone like, static water, their blue flickering waves vibrating lazily as if frozen in time. And Sarah didn't really know the real purpose behind all those shiny golden altars popping all over the place, but she was actually pretty sure that the giant neon letters floating above the ancient constructions wouldn't actually _SAVE_ her life if the need arise.

Were those ruins serving any real purpose at all or were they in fact just some kind of homage to the lazy deity and its horrible creations? The young woman couldn't really tell but she was inclined to believe the latter. Sarah Fortune wasn't a religious person after all, but she had yet to meet any influential figure or person of importance for that matter that didn't seem to carry an ego the size of an ancient sea-king kraken.

The bounty hunter sighs, she kicks the corpse of the last minion-doll she has slain and then puts her guns back into their holsters, her gaze staying on their alien forms for a few more seconds before traveling back to the ever shining sun and the greenery laying beneath it.

Alien, that was one way to put it, the guns that were now resting in her holsters were another oddity, a mystery like the existence of this fake world and its mindless residents. The material of the pistols' vibrant pink handles felt wrong under her touch, hard and yet fragile completely unlike wood or metal or any known material the red haired bounty huntress had ever heard of.

Was it some new kind of alloy constructed in Piltover and if that was really the case why were the guns just laying next to her when she had came to in this godforsaken wasteland? Was perhaps this world some kind of training facility? A lifeless realm not created by a sinister god or demon but the vanity of man and his never-ending quest for knowledge?

That would at least explain the absence of humans and other intelligent life forms in this plane of existence. Or maybe they could be hiding, either way Sarah hadn't encountered a single yordle or even voidling thus far.

Well at least the pistols seemed to be as good as any at slaying minion-dolls and pixilated monsters, and they also seemed to be able to fire nearly endless barrages of colorful projectiles without the need to reload. Apparently whoever sent her here wanted her to be equipped accordingly.

Well, Sarah missed the hard wooden grip of her favorite ornate pistols, but these hexguns would have to do for now and she at least wouldn't have to worry about finding more ammunition in the near future.

The bounty hunter sighs, tired melancholic eyes scanning the vast hillsides and the giant golden coins hovering around her, it seems that wherever she killed one of those minion-dolls a golden coin would appear in its place as if to reward her for participating in some kind of dull, monotonous hunting game. Sarah didn't really pay too much attention at the spinning currency, money was important yes living in the cruel ports of Bilgewater had tough her that the hard way, but wealth and treasures were useless when you were stuck inside an inhabitable moving painting.

And yet it wasn't as if Sarah hadn't tried escaping this hellish place, oh no the young bounty hunter had tried, running for hours upon hours under the intense smiling visage of the golden sun and the moving and yet somehow still frozen pixilated clouds. Tirelessly moving forward until she had encountered some kind of invisible wall barring her way.

The redhead was baffled at first, eyeing the invisible obstacle curiously before reluctantly shooting at it with one of her hextech pistols only for the light rounds to harmlessly pass through the wall as if it wasn't even there.

Sarah wouldn't just surrender so easily of course, the redhead had just sighed, an annoyed expression minutely appearing on her beautiful face before grudgingly moving away from the wall, calmly walking in the opposite direction.

It didn't make much of a difference. The world was still a parody of real life, the rivers were still flowing endlessly carrying fake static water, the sky was bright and the sun hadn't even moved an inch since she had started her journey. Countless minion dolls fell under the endless neon beams of her hextech pistols but he bounty hunter just kept marching forward until she suddenly stumbled into another transparent wall exactly like the previous one she had encountered.

The redhead had grunted, her currently annoyed expression slowly turning into one of despair as she started walking by the invisible obstacle, tired blue eyes staring at the distant foothills and the fake trees, one hand grasping her pistol the other one dragging against the unnatural chilling surface of the invisible obstacle.

The situation wasn't weird or annoying anymore, it was dangerous almost hopeless and Sarah tried to push the thought away, but somewhere deep inside Sarah had already drawn her conclusions about the invisible wall restraining her movements and unfortunately enough every slow tired step she took just seemed to confirm the redhead's suspicions. But the unnerved bounty hunter just grit her teeth and kept marching forward even as her heart boomed and clenched inside her ribcage, because what choice did she have really?

So Sarah took a step forward and then another one and at least ten or twelve more after that, her desperate tired gaze dragging along her own shaky feet, following her future footsteps. An endless amount of footsteps later and she was still feeling the invisible obstacle, the sun was shining brightly and her heart was thundering against her chest, her numb palm still sliding against the dreadful transparent window blocking her way. Sarah already knew the futility of her actions by now, but she just kept walking forward, what choice did she have really?

Step

Thirsty she was starting to feel thirsty and the sun hadn't even moved an inch.

Step

Her throat was dry, her feet somehow kept stumbling against the grass carrying her forward and yet the scenery still looked the same. Another step and then another one…

Step

Sarah couldn't even feel her right hand anymore, but she somehow knew that the barrier was still there, still mocking her, still tormenting her very existence.

Step

Another step, the sun is shining, the coins are spinning, the bloody barrier is still there.

Step

Another step, her throat hurts, she needs some water but the fake rivers are frozen, her fingers stop before they even reach the static water's surface.

Step

Step, step, how many steps have she taken thus far, everything around her still looks the same.

Step

Her feet are killing her, she will have to take a break at some point, but she can't rest yet, not until she finds a way out of this nightmarish place.

Step

Step, the despair is now overwhelming her, her eyes are watering and the damn wall is still there.

Step

Step

Step

Step

Step

A few lifetimes later and Sarah notices something that makes her heart stop. Footsteps, familiar footsteps and crashed grass blades leading away from her, vanishing into the horizon. She is back at where she started.

Step? No, not anymore, why even bother at this point.

The wall is still here, still invisible and unfortunately still blocking her way and it is at this particular moment that Sarah just breaks down and collapses on her knees and starts screaming her lungs out, curling into a ball as the minion-dolls start approaching her, waving their tiny swords and wands at her menacingly. Because Sarah has finally realized the truth. This isn't an empty world or a failed experiment, not even some kind of bizarre training facility in the heart of Piltover. No, it is some higher being's toy box and she is trapped inside it.

Sarah would soon learn that not even death would allow her to escape this hellish place because as luck would have it she had once carelessly approached one of the scattered save stations.

* * *

 **Author's note: I really like the idea of the arcade universe and all the possibilities that come with it, it let's characters interact in a completely new way and gives a new perspective to them much like the Project skins.**

 **I saw the splash art for arcade Ahri and the vibrant background kind of inspired me to write an arcade story. It was either this one or a story about Riven defeating the bad dragon in the arcade world and then nursing Shyvana back to health, becoming friends with her or even starting a romance, but I wanted to write something simpler than that and so here you have this story. Feel free to use this or any plots I have ever mentioned if it inspires you to write something.**


	3. Functional body, desolate mind

Lux is trembling, her whole body shaking uncontrollably like a leaf caught in the gusts of an autumn gale, teary baby blue eyes staring forward straight into the emotionless face of the woman standing in front of her. The mage wants to wail, shout and cry her lungs out until her voice disappears and her ears start ringing by the frantic sound of her own heart-wrenching voice, but she can't, so she just stands in there too shocked and terrified to even express her despair. The young light mage can only breathe, breathe and stare, her expression one of pain and grief mixed with loss and anguish, her gaze still locked on the augmented version of the person she used to call her friend.

This whole spectacle was wrong, disturbing, boarding on plain insane and yet Fiora just stood there, deaf and blind to the young blonde's peril, examining the scene in front of her with the interest of a marble statue.

"Aaa…"

A broken sound of pain, that was the only sound that finally managed to leave the blonde mage's throat and yet her friend didn't even raise her head in order to discover the source of this choked whisper.

"F-Fiora?"

The mage's anguish finally manages to form words and grace the night air, but for all the good that did the cyborg ignores her only for Luxanna's heart to sink further down her stomach. Human beings weren't supposed to stay still for so long or have such empty, vacant expressions, no, not even Orianna or Blitzcrank the sentient robots constructed in Piltover could actually achieve that level of emotionless self-awareness and yet somehow against all odds the current visage of Fiora was one of complete apathy, a fake expression painted on a soulless doll's face.

Lux's heart aches, her wide blue terrified eyes still darting across the other woman's body, absorbing every tiny grim detail. The swordswoman's completion is pale as if drained of all color, her body stiff and motionless and the light mage can only wonder if the creature currently standing in front of her is even breathing. The duelist's lithe body is encased in iron, cold silver hextech machinery painfully sinking into her nerves and appendages, her once proud gaze now hidden behind a vibrant pink glowing visor.

Lux is now whimpering her expressive sky blue eyes still locked on the thick plastic wires disappearing under her friend's flesh and the tiny and yet just big enough to be visible circuits decorating the duelist's facial features.

That's wrong, inhuman, that creature standing in front of her couldn't possibly be her dear friend, the one she used to spend most of her holidays with and consult about her problems. It just couldn't, and yet the small black letters spelling Project Fiora carefully tattooed onto the woman's left cheek left no doubt of the cyborg's former identity.

Fiora's beautiful dark fringes were now painted a dull disheveled white, her pale blue eyes obscured by the visor now glowing with a malicious pink hue courtesy of the countless nanomachines flooding her bloodstream and judging by the stiff unflinching way the woman stood Lux doubted that the former duelist could even acknowledge her own existence.

The young Demacia light mage had of course heard about the terrible aftereffects of the experimental procedures taking place behind the birth of the esteemed Projects. Memory loss, night terrors, apathy, complete erasure of one's own identity, and all that was of course just the tip of the iceberg, but none of Luxanna's finds, not the few scoops she had managed to uncover on her own and certainly nor King Jarvan's reassuring words that Fiora was in good hands could prepare the ingenious light mage for the sight now laying in front of her.

Her friend is gone, wiped out without a trace, never to come back to her, sacrificed for the good of a corrupted nation and a greedy council full of backstabbing sycophants. What currently stood before her wearing her childhood friend's face was nothing more than a robot. Nanites and metal, circuits and dead fresh, machinery and human tissue fused together in order to create the perfect soldier, veins so pumped full of illegal chemicals that glowed and a brain full of encryption software.

What kind of madman would create such a thing and what kind of sane sovereign would permit its usage? To one of their best warriors no less, a political figure and a role model for every aspiring Demacian warrior and future duelist? None, everyone, Jarvan, the answers really didn't matter anymore. Her friend was gone forever.

The blonde mage grits her teeth and clenches her fists, her mournful wet gaze still pinned on the flickering pink visor, but the robot behind it just ignores her and Lux can't help but sigh and try to blink away her tears.

Things weren't supposed to end up this way, the Demacian projects were supposed to be paragons of good, handpicked warriors chosen to ascend into the next level of martial supremacy.

Lux could still remember the Zaunite scientist's calm reassurances, Jarvan's excitement upon finding a potential countermeasure against the infamous crimson elite force of Noxus, a way to safeguard the lives of their people.

Her brother had been skeptic back then and yet no one had really paid attention to him. Garen wasn't a strategist, a scholar or even a particularly bright individual, but a hardened warrior, brave and righteous yes, but incapable of using his head unless that meant headbutting an enemy general into oblivion.

And yet that simple kind man that thought with his sword and wore his heart on his sleeve had been right all along. The Augmentation Project wasn't the answer to end the war but the cause of Runeterra's downfall.

The Projects were supposed to be mighty warriors artificially conditioned to reach their full potential. Faster reflexes, better eyesight, improved reaction times, small but meaningful improvements in their already impressive repertoire, no one had said a word about eyecams and metal plates or cooling fluid at that point. No, those _handy_ additions would come much, much later when Noxus' own Bioforge experiments would eventually come to light.

But unfortunately for Demacia's mightest heroes the citizens would have already become mesmerized by the concept of infallible guardians patrolling the borders by then, demanding their champions' further improvement. Everything just went to hell after that as a repeating circle of events would suddenly spring into action.

Every now and then Noxus would develop a new version of their terrifying Bioforge serum and then the Demacia council would send their mighty guardians into the Zaunite workshops and laboratories, forcing them to abandon even more of their living fresh and humanoid traits in favor of indestructible limbs and iron knuckles whist every time a new Project emerged even more gooey poisonous serum would abruptly end up in some poor unfortunate soldier's veins giving birth to even bigger monstrosities and more importantly more raw and volatile versions of the Noxian super soldier serum, and then the circle would repeat itself.

Fools all of them, Lux didn't know who to blame anymore, the decorated generals and advisors showcasing their prized soldier like caged animals or the mindless mob cheering their leaders' actions, putting their heroes on the pedestals?

It didn't really matter anymore, the whole world had already gone to hell and she and her brother were finally chosen as future participants and _volunteers_ to join the augmentation project.

The blonde light mage can't hold back her tears anymore she hurriedly wraps her arms around the cold metalic frame of her once childhood friend and just busts into tears, muffling her sobs with the android's shoulder, and if Lux were to suddenly look behind the ashen haired Project's visor she would see Fiora's eyebrows furrowing in confusion and a single transparent tear silently slipping from the corner of the tampered woman's white eyelashes.

But the mage didn't and so Lux just kept sobbing into the crook of the cyborg's neck for what felt like an eternity and the light mage didn't even have the mind to scream or try to escape when abruptly the footsteps of the Zaunite scientists suddenly reached the blonde light mage's ears. Shady figures slowly closing in, the maddening smiles on their lips only there to forewarn the world about the birth of a new Project.


	4. Corsair Quinn origins

Quinn grunted, scrunching up her eyes in pain, the little dwarfs inside her head still hammering her poor skull mercilessly, the loud chirping coming from the Institute's garden already informing her that, yes, it was indeed morning.

The scout grumbles, unwisely attempting to open her eyelids before shutting them again all the while hissing in pain, the brightness of the morning sun almost causing her inebriated brain to explode.

Quinn sighs, one hand nursing her aching head the other one blindly searching for her pillow intending to use the soft cushion as a shield against the treacherous rays of the sun currently scorching her face. The room was impossibly warm and the bright light was only making her headache worse turning her already considerably painful experience into a skull-splitting headache worthy of a Freljordian banquet and Quinn for once seriously started sympathizing with Diana's immense hatred of the sun and all that evil flaming light bulb represented.

Was now perhaps too late for her to join Diana's moon cult-thingy? Quinn didn't really mean to brag about it or anything but due to the scout's occasional insomnia and odd sleeping patterns the young woman had long since deducted that she would in fact make one hell of a Lunari acolyte if the need ever arose.

Quinn hisses in annoyance, her blind search for the pillow baring little to no results, she finally decides to just give up on the comfy cushion and promptly plant her face against the hard mattress, and the disorientated scout would have no doubt just followed that ingenious plan if not for the sudden realization that there was someone currently sleeping right next to her, lightly breathing against her earlobe.

Fuck, the ranger freezes, her body abruptly tensing, tiny droplets of moisture already forming against the sun-kissed surface of her forehead and Quinn gulps nervously as dazed amber eyes slowly open, bravely staring into the horrible plane of reality.

A familiar room, crossbow bolts, pens, journals and loads of plain white sheets of paper covered in quick sloppy sketches and her own messy handwriting seemed to occupy the majority of the desk, along with a beautiful painting of Valor, her dear pet and partner in crime, carefully placed near the center of the old wooden furnisher, haphazardly close enough to the empty container that was once used to safeguard the Demacian eagle's favorite snacks and bird treats.

Well, the iron case was wide open right now and Quinn didn't even have to look inside the small reinforced box to know that Valor had probably devoured every single one of the tasty bird treats and replaced them with dead earthworms or something equally gross and dirty.

Quinn sighed, almost cursing in frustration, it looked like her attempts to put the huge avian on a diet had failed yet again. Although the Demacian scout refrained from pondering about how a huge majestic bird like Valor had actually managed to pick the lock of a reinforced metallic container exclusively crafted in Piltover, not once or twice but three consecutive times in a row. Pondering such thoughts would surely grind away at the last scarce remains of her sanity and she had actually bigger problems to deal with right now, such as the mysterious sleeping stranger mumbling softly against her hair all the while breathing softly down her earlobe.

And… Valor's criminal behavior was probably Beatrice's fault anyway. Quinn just knew that the terrifying crow Swain carried around the Institute was admittedly the cause of her partner's recent shady behavior.

That evil feathery creature of death and destruction was surely corrupting her beloved kind eagle, Quinn was sure of it! Why else would Valor suddenly start coercing her into abandoning her military career in the Demacian army in order to move into Bilgewater and become a fearsome pirate? See? It was all that damned crow's fault and her crazy ideas influencing her pure innocent chil- Valor, but mama-bird Quinn was determined to get to the bottom of this one way or another!

Leaving those distracting thoughts for a more appropriate time the young scout pauses, her amber gaze still locked on the familiar desk containing her belongings and Quinn almost sighs in relief. Her current situation is more or less horrible she has to admit, but the young Demacian is happy since she had at least spent the night in the relative safety of her own chambers as opposed to some dangerous stranger's hidden lair even if she has obviously had some company.

The seconds keep ticking by, the sun is high in the sky among the clouds and Quinn is silently trying to decide between mustering all her courage in order to take a quick peek at the mysterious stranger or just locking herself in the bathroom until he/she (could it actually be an it? One never knew at the Institute.) gets bored and decides to leave her alone and let her cry her eyes out in peace.

Quinn's mind is leaning towards the latter of her two available choices and the dazed scout is about to lunge away from the bed and make a mad dash for the bathroom when strong warm arms suddenly wrap around her stomach, easily trapping her in place even as soft crimson lips abruptly start tracing small circles all over the poor flustered scout's naked shoulder blades.

Quinn stiffens, her face turning a vibrant red hue as the soft cushions rubbing against her back leaves no doubt about her mysterious assailant's gender. A female, there is an unknown woman currently pressing her breasts against the ranger's back, moaning softly against her earlobe and Quinn doesn't even know if she should feel scared or excited when another pair or arms suddenly wrap around her waist and pulls her closer. Quinn blinks, her gaze silently dropping downwards only to be greeted by the sight of a fellow Demacian markswoman smiling at her affectionately.

"Good morning, little birdie."

That's all the warning Quinn gets before Vayne suddenly kisses her (or maybe the huntress is just attacking her lips with her mouth? Quinn isn't really sure at this point) the action eliciting a small yelp of surprise from the younger woman.

The kiss doesn't last too long and Shauna seems kind of tired for some reason, but the action leaves Quinn breathless and the crimson faced scout has to wait for a few painfully long moments before her body finally remembers how to operate properly, promptly filling her lungs with sweet, sweet much needed oxygen. Meanwhile Vayne just stares at her lovingly all the while smiling softly.

"That stupefied expression of yours is quite adorable I must admit, but please try to keep your voice down. I don't really want to keep sharing you with Riven."

Riven, the name is oddly familiar to the still dazed forester and yet it takes less than mere seconds for Quinn to recognize the name of the young Noxian commander and former poster child of said nation that had actually defected from her unit after witnessing the atrocities committed by her countrymen against defenseless Ionian civilians during her service at the time of the infamous Ionian invasion.

Quinn had fought a few times against that unstoppable juggernaut of a woman while competing on the fields of justice, but other than her military background and her favorite weapon of choice the young Demacian didn't really know anything else about the ashen haired warrior and deadly swordswoman.

But that had obviously changed hadn't it? Quinn now knew that Riven slept like a log, liked her Demacians young, lithe and amber eyed and that she was obviously a really big fan of snuggling after nighttime activities. Oh gods, a Demacian noblewoman and an exiled Noxian commander, just how drunk had she been yesterday?

"Come on, Quinn stop dillydallying. Lux is waiting for us in the mess hall and you really don't want to keep Garen waiting. Trust me on that, that man has the patience of an agitated boar and the strength to match it."

Garen, the name of the Dauntless Vanguard's mighty captain and dear friend of the Demacian prince that would soon be governing their country, if Quinn had thought that she was in trouble before she was now starting to feel completely and utterly terrified. The young shy scout could already practically hear Karthus whispering her name and Kindred's light footsteps approaching her from the shadows.

"G-Garen? D-Did I also sleep with the Might of Demacia?"

The scout's voice was meek and scared, her beautiful amber eyes wet and wide with fear and Shauna couldn't really help but kiss the poor girl softly before hurriedly answering her lover's question.

"Gods, no, I am fine with rugged Noxian beauties and pretty girls, but there is no way I am letting that oaf of a man lay a single finger on my property!"

Vayne's words soothed her, the huntress' quick denial immediately calming the young ranger's heart, reminding Quinn to breathe again properly. The relief appeasing her very soul making the young scout completely overlook the end of her fellow Demacian's sentence and the dark possessive way that Vayne currently embraced her.

"But you kind of punched Ezreal in the face and then stole his date so I can only assume that Garen would like to know your intentions concerning his one and only dear sister."

A fearless huntress, a brave warrior and an arcane prodigy, all of them in a single night, not bad for a shy country bumpkin that usually spend most of her time in the forests and liked conversing with an overgrown Demacian eagle, right?

Did you see that Caleb? It looks like I have actually become quite the lady-killer. The joke is on you Valor, I don't really have to ruffle my feathers and start jumping around like an idiot in order to attract potential mates. I knew birds were terrible at giving love advice!

…Shit.

"I-Is Garen angry?"

"Not that I know of, he seemed kind of pleased when you stole Luxanna from that Ezreal guy and even settled your bar tab after you left Gragas'. I just hope you weren't stupid enough to take Lux's chastity or things might turn a little unpleasant otherwise."

Quinn just nodded, the lump in her throat growing with every passing second, her brain already filled with naked images of Lux screaming in ecstasy, her golden hair spread on the sheets and her trembling arms tightly wrapped around her sun-kissed body as the petite mage keeps shouting her name hoarsely, and the young Demacian ranger could only hope that those lustful images flashing in front of her eyes were actually just figments of her own perverted imagination and not actually memories of the previous night.

And then Quinn spotted Luxanna's shiny silver breastplate peeking from beneath her favorite armchair and abruptly realized that the deities of Runeterra hated her guts and the world was doomed to end in fire.

I am sorry Valor it looks like your Quinny won't actually become a wealthy pirate lord after all, she is going to be busy breaking rocks in some nameless Zaunite prison until she is old and wrinkled. Please remember to eat properly while I am gone and clean your feathers every other day.

"Right."

The ranger didn't even recognize the sound of her own broken voice when she spoke, most of Quinn's soul had already left her body after all and Vayne probably noticed it because she rushed to reassure the troubled woman the next second, unintentionally crashing the young ranger's last rays of hope in the process.

"It's ok Quinn, you don't have to be afraid. I can assure you that even if Riven and Lux chicken out or betray you, I assure you, no, I promise you that Shyvanna and I are going to take care of you and make sure that nothing bad is going to happen to you in case you refuse to accept the Crownguards' preposterous marriage proposal."

Shyvanna, a new name on her dreaded list of screw ups, wasn't that the name of the humanoid dragon woman that decided to leave the wilderness and fight for the glory of their nation? Why would Shyvanna care if Garen Crowguard sends Valor and her to play hopscotch in a Piltovian minefield? Quinn barely even knew the mysterious dragoness… Or did she, now? A blurry scene abruptly started playing inside the scout's head and Quinn could only sigh loudly as embarrassing images once again started flooding the Demacian ranger's mind.

"Let me guess, I somehow got down and dirty with the Half-Dragoness."

"Yep, and you even borrowed my dragon slayer outfit in order to reenact a scene from one of your favorite novels. Something about a brave hero saving a whole kingdom by teaching the evil dragon god that preyed on the townsfolk the importance of love and… let's just say tenderness. You owe me a new outfit by the way because there is just no way in hell I am ever going to wear that costume ever again after your little dragon slaying adventure."

A silent nod, Quinn isn't even surprised anymore, of course she had somehow managed to make love to a dragoness while she was inebriated.

So to summarize yesterday's events: She had gotten drunk for the first time in her admittedly short and probably already doomed life, bedded Vayne, punched Ezreal, seduced an exiled enemy commander, ruined her image, stole a noblewoman's chastity, angered Demacian nobility and then somehow found and screwed a dragon. Well, she at least didn't sleep with a yordle, right? That would be all kinds of freaky and awkward for far too many laws and reasons.

"Oh and before we leave, would you mind letting Lulu out of the oven? I know you two like power play, but the whole yordle slavery theme is kind of disturbing even if Lulu seems to be enjoying it immensely."

"Of course."

You know what? Fuck it. Being a pirate sounded like a cool idea anyway.


	5. The hunter

Vi sighed, her cold aquamarine gaze slowly wandering across the barred windows and ominous looking doorway, the chilling atmosphere surrounding the abandoned building only adding to the crippling feeling of dread emanating from the decaying property, its overwhelming aura practically brimming with negative energy both freezing the pink haired enforcer's guts and confirming the pinkette's previous assumption that, yeah, there was definitely something wrong and despicable living inside those faded cracked walls, and it was clearly furious.

Could it actually be a ghost or evil entity? Some kind of wraith or lesser greed demon perhaps, feeding off the negative emotions of the people living close to its vicinity? The pink haired enforcer couldn't really tell without further investigating the matter, but all the weird noises and loud creaks occasionally escaping from somewhere behind the dirty stained windows and unkempt garden of the house only seemed to further add up to the superstitious woman's uneasiness.

The whole neighborhood seemed silent today, motionless, almost lifeless, with one word anticipatory, a dark gathering storm of hate, malice and bottled up emotions ready to break out at any second. The air around the old house usually thick with tension, was now seemingly electrified, forewarning of terrible deeds that had yet to take place.

Never before had Vi actually witnessed such a thick potent blanket of miasma slowly creeping through the cracks of a haunted property or such foul unnatural gusts of wind howling over the ratty rug and the torn curtains of the windows making them twist and turn like mad specters dancing under the pale twilight.

The brownish stains across the pavement uncannily reminding Vi of bloody drag marks left to dry under the fiery gaze of some malicious entity instead of the purifying illuminating rays of the sun, and the enormous gatherings of white eyed crows perched upon every visible power line were other obvious clues that something was terribly wrong in this neighborhood.

So here she was, calmly staring at the old haunted property, crystal blue orbs hard like steel, her determined gaze silently piercing through the inky black shadows as the seconds slowly turned to minutes and even thought the seconds kept ticking by, Vi never attempted to avert her eyes from the crumbling building, keeping her gaze locked on the dirty stained glass and the faint fog and the shadowy forms squirming amongst the dusty furniture. Silently daring the dark entities to abandon the safety of their shadows and bravely crawl into the light to face her. The faintest traces of angel blood circulating inside her veins, an earsplitting warning against all the skulking forms of undeath and ghosts or sinister spirits stupid enough to threaten the residents of her precious city.

Piltover, the bright gem of humanity, the triumph of science over war and destruction. The shinning pinnacle of technological advancement and beacon of hope for all of humanity. A city overflowing with neon lights and shiny sophisticated machinery, but even so robots and constructs didn't actually build this city. No, It was built by teachers and doctors, scholars and scientists, normal human beings that sweated and bled and shed an unlimited amount of tears while striving for a better future. And Vi is no stranger to pain and hardships, so she can respect that. She wants to protect that dream, preserve it, nurture it even, she wants to defend those precious souls and their dreams and this city that houses them.

A few conversing pedestrians leisurely walk down the street, a bright silver hexmobile swiftly passes her by, Pentakill's booming sound resonating from its stereo. An elderly woman walking her dog suddenly stops and shoots the fearless enforcer a scrutinizing look that would have probably made Jayce instantly bow down and apologize, but Vi just ignores those distractions, pale cyan irises momentary shining a radiant gold before promptly returning back to their normal sky blue color.

Suddenly without any warning at all or apparent reason the temperature around the block abruptly starts rising, the rusty swing hanging in the garden abruptly freezes midswing and harmlessly drops back on the ground, the ragged curtains previously fluttering all over the place now just collapse on top of the windowsills and the jumbled whispers emanating from the basement seem to dim down considerably before finally fading completely.

The enforcer just waits for a few more seconds, sparing the old building a final glance before turning her back to it and calmly walking away, her shoulders stiff and body tense, limbs numb with exhaustion, her usually proud straight back now hunched almost facing the sun as if the pinkette is carrying the weight of the entire universe.

Vi just grumbles, she has to check at least three more hotspots of supernatural activity before she can finally hit the sack and her new shift starts in less than five hours from now. Shit, Caitlyn is probably going to start yelling at her again when she inevitably falls asleep while doing her paperwork.

The pinkette almost smiles at the thought of Caitlyn, beautiful, brave, workaholic, sweet kind Caitlyn. Vi sometimes contemplates talking to the Sheriff about her dirty little secret, but that's just her own selfish desires talking, getting the best of her. Selfish and dangerous desires indeed, because the possibility of Caitlyn believing her without seeing those things is probably next to nothing and yet there is no way in hell that Vi is going to let those filthy things approach her precious partner, or any person at all for that matter.

No, it's all good in Vi's book if dear Cupcake is kept in the dark about this whole ordeal. It's good enough if Vi is the only one suffering from the nightmares. There is no reason for the brunette to lose her sleep while investigating sightings of ghosts or explore abandoned building, diving into whole bathtubs filled with purifying salt shouldn't be a part of the Sheriff's daily life and spending the majority of the nights mumbling inside protective glyphs while waiting for the inevitable attack of a wraith couldn't possibly be a good thing for one's sanity.

No, ghost hunting is Vi's job and the pinkette fully intends to make sure that things are going to stay this way, and even though the pinkette has to keep wearing her enormous hextech gauntlets everywhere in order to hide her bleeding hands and only uses her heavy breastplate in order to obscure the crimson bandages covering her entire body, Vi will just grit her teeth and keep moving, sorry, punching forward.

Because for as long as Vi treads in the dark, Caitlyn can keep walking in the light and that's somehow enough for the crude and rambunctious enforcer that disappears during the patrols and bares more fresh bleeding wounds than moles or wrinkles. And God pity the foolish soul that dares disturb the peace and quiet of Vi's favorite bustling innovative city.

For as a certain dark skinned purifier once said, hell has no fury like a pissed pink haired Nephilim wearing giant iron gauntlets.

* * *

 **This oneshot was based on an older discontinued story of mine. I also noticed that I have been using way more religious exclamations on these stories than I would normaly use, which is kind of troubling and weird since Runeterra lacks a prevailing religion.**

 **I am guessing most common folk in Valoran believe in nameless gods and spirits while every league champion believes in whatever they hold dear and has protected them in the past. Yes, I know that I am just making excuses so I can keep using silly phrases such as ' _May Teemo smile on you'_ and 'Oh by Soraka's enormous banana scented horn, Ahri, _your_ dress iiiis gorgeous! ' now please stop judging me. **


	6. and the Haunted

Vayne whimpered, scared wet crimson eyes rapidly darting between the shadows of the small chamber, the emaciated weakened form of the young vampire's body already shaking uncontrollably as if reacting to the imminent appearance of some kind of grotesque and unspeakable horror that had yet to make itself known to Quinn's warm, compassionate amber eyes.

The wind caresses Vayne's skin, the night's shadowy veil thickens and it isn't long before the scared huntress suddenly burst into tears, fresh salty creeks silently rolling down her pearly white cheeks, loosely following the still wet tearstains of the Night Hunter's previous outburst even as the ranger's gentle embrace tightens in a futile attempt to ward off Shauna's unjustified fears.

"It's alright, Shauna, everything is okay now. No one is going to hurt you anymore. I promised you that I would protect you no matter what, remember?"

The ranger's soothing voice suddenly draws the huntress attention and Vayne gasps, her fragile neck almost snapping by the hasty way she abruptly jerks her head in order to face her lover and current caretaker. The liquid rubies of her eyes suddenly going wide like saucers the moment Shauna lays eyes on the troubled younger woman.

The night hunter freezes, silently staring into the familiar amber eyes of the woman lying on the bed right next to her as if only just now noticing her, frantic red eyes inspecting her worried soulmate that from Vayne's point of view somehow seemed to have appeared out of thin air even though Quinn has been casually stroking the noblewoman's hair for almost an hour.

"W- What? Who's there! Where did you come from? You can't be in here, he is going to get you too! Don't you see the black figures closing in? Haven't you already noticed the cursed witches starting to surround us? Run, you have to run! You have to get away from them!"

The young vampire is delirious, anxiously pointing at the door, eager to get her lover to safety, but Quinn doesn't answer Vayne's questions and she just leans in and kisses the tortured creature's sweaty forehead, her hands still stroking the night hunter's pale skin and bandaged appendages all the while whispering to her calm reassurances.

The scout smiles softly and kisses Vayne again and again, sneaking a little bit of crimson blood inside the starving vampire's pale lips hoping to reignite the bright spark of life inside the lifeless depths of Shauna's empty glassy eyes, but the vampire just keeps sobbing and quaking.

Vayne is distracted, too lost, too shattered, too busy searching for nonexistent threats and ghosts inside their chambers to notice Quinn's desperate attempts to help her, her fearful sanguine gaze still wondering across the room, scanning the harmless shadows created by the cheap hextech lamp on their nightstand for skulking beasts and demons.

The vampire is scared, so very scared, always scared, always on guard, always nervous. Vayne keeps searching for beasts, seeing ghosts, listening into the night for assassins, harking for hours, expecting to be attacked by werewolves.

"We have talked about this before, Shauna. There are no monsters or evil entities hiding under the bed, the vanity table or the closet, waiting to ambush us. Nocturne is gone and he is never going to hurt you ever again. Y-you are safe here."

The Night Hunter just shivers and sobs, even more tears escaping from her puffy eyelids at the mention of the sinister dream-demon's name, her beautiful red, deep crimson eyes still staring at the murderous army of ghosts and sinister ghouls crawling out of the walls and waving at her from the windows, their hysterical laughter and amused noises the only sounds actually reaching her ears.

The demons are mocking her, spitting at her or smirking at them wickedly and even though Quinn is actually right and there is no one else inside the room except for the two of them and the occasional gust of wind and the dust particles descending from the ceiling Vayne keeps jumping at every faint shadows and distant barking sound coming from down the street. All the while releasing small broken croaks of fear and chewing at her bottom lip, that is now torn and bloody.

And even though Quinn just keeps stroking her back and desperately squeezes her hands trying to comfort her, Vayne is too distracted by the cruel demons living inside her head for her to actually pay attention or even react to her melancholic mate's presence and Quinn can only embrace the trembling woman and pray that Shauna's mind will someday recover.

But alas Shauna Vayne was never really meant to regain her sanity after the Eternal Nightmare had so brutally ravaged her mind and shattered her very psyche like a bug squashed underfoot.

It was unfortunate really, but it seems like the morbid tale of the courageous Night Hunter would end the same way it had started, veiled in immense pain and tragedy.

* * *

 **Note and also Spoiler alert for Hunters and Scouts. This chapter was inspired by an** **idea I had about Vayne permanently suffering from the aftereffects of Nocturne's mental intrusion in O. H. A. S. It wouldn't really surprise me if Vayne started questioning reality or seeing things after her little adventure. One of the possible endings I had planed for the series was Vayne spending whole chapters interacting with Quinn only to realize at the end that she had never escaped from Nocturne's clutches and that she was still trapped inside a nightmare for seemingly years.**

 **The other ending I liked was the opposite, in which Quinn accepts Vayne's advances and spends her daily life with Quinn and then we suddenly see some milky white bleeding into Vayne's red eyes meaning that either a part of Noct is still in there and is slowly surfacing or that Vayne is actually dead and that Noct has actually stolen Shauna's body and claimed her identity.**

 **I loved that ending, but in the end I decided to go with something happier and lighter. This chapter is also showcasing the possible negative consequences of the life of a monster hunter and the two possible outcomes of a battle. The victorious hunter being (Vi) and the one that has fallen (Shauna) being the hunted. Well, haunted in Vayne's case so I played a bit with the titles in order to make a pun and show both sides of the coin.**


	7. Spiders, rain, flowers and ninja

Eerie glows and black inky shadows, withered seeds and ancient cobwebs, priceless antiques and small green seedlings skillfully planted inside cheap plastic pots, the thick veil of darkness covers them all, hiding them, flooding them, suffocating them, choking their dusky forms in its terrifying dark mysterious embrace.

 _Kabooooom_

The sudden deafening sound of thunder abruptly breaks the night's relative silence, grey and black hues abruptly turning a bright white, blinding undertones of silver and alabaster pouring forth from the leaden guts of the stormy clouds, the unexpected disturbance causing the small form wrapped around the Spider Queen's arms to shift uncomfortably and whimper, uttering small scared noises before pressing its head against the slumbering woman's chest.

 _Kabooooom_

The blinding serpents of lightning suddenly lunge towards the dry earth, illuminating the heavy clouds hanging from the sky. Silver and black shards now whirling between the tiny droplets of moisture falling down to earth, rushing to meet the brown warm soil.

 _Kaaaaaabooooooooooooooom_

 _Pit pit pit_

Another thunder booms in the distance, light and darkness dancing on the horizon, the comforting shadows of the bedroom suddenly retreating for only a brief moment, but long enough to reveal the slumbering plantmage still clinging to the flabbergasted Spider Queen for dear life before the rightful dominion of the night is yet again restored.

Elise wakes up after the third lightning finally disappears behind the heavy dark clouds, the pitter-pattering of the raindrops against the bedroom's window and the excitable gurgle of the water draining from the gutter the only audible sounds except from the quick terrified breaths of the agitated plantmage.

Elise smiles after spotting Zyra, the plantmage still clinging to her form, her curvy yellow-green body pressed against her own, soft crimson hair spilling all over the pillow like the scattered petals of fragrant roses after a particularly windy afternoon.

The spidermage's good mood wouldn't last for long however and it only takes Elise a quick glance across the room to realize that something is definitely amiss.

The Spider Queen blinks, her smile disappearing, scarlet eyes narrowing dangerously, thin elegant eyebrows furrowing as she finally spots the thorny plants blossoming all over the bedroom.

Elise pauses, calm ruby eyes now wandering towards her slumbering partner, her previous guise of irritation instantly melting away, immediately replaced by one of worry upon witnessing the unconscious plantmage's agitated expression.

"Zyra?"

The plantmage remains still, her orange phosphorescent irises rapidly moving behind her closed eyelids, but although Zyra swifts in her sleep she doesn't wake up even though her grip around the Spider Queen's waist suddenly tightens considerably eliciting a small grunt from the still dazed cultist.

Elise grunts in pain, her already narrowed crimson eyes now suddenly turning into red slits filled with sanguine fire, the unholy light burning inside those crimson eye sockets almost managing to illuminate the whole room.

A few tiny spiderlings slowly start creeping out of their nests near the ceiling and behind the old heavy furniture, the small crimson glowing dots of their eyes shining eerily in the dimly lit room like bloodstained fireflies buzzing among the shadows.

"Zyra?"

Silence, the sounds of splattering water and disturbed rippling puddles of dirt and mud the only sounds that manages to reach the Spider Queen's ears, plants and shadows, spriderlings and cobwebs all standing still as if frozen in time, simple witnesses to the odd sight before them.

 _Kaabooooom_

The last lighting finally roars in anger, coiling behind the clouds, shouting its fury among the frigid raindrops and the howling gusts of moisture, splitting the sky in two even as it dives for the wet ground below.

The plantmage screams, her voice rising in terror as orange phosphorescent eyes abruptly open, the deadly pink flowers littering the illuminated room suddenly bursting to life, demonstrating their acidic petals and uncoiling their thorny poisonous vines, ready to defend their queen and maker even as the enraged spiderlings swiftly abandon their cobwebs and various hiding spots and start hissing lowly in warning.

The battle seems imminent, the conflict unavoidable, black and green armies of creeping death are already springing into action, both adversaries ready to maul and kill, intending to defend their respective queen at any cost, even if that means sacrificing their lives.

The varmints hiss, the creepers slither closer, vines and fangs dripping with liquid death moving to intersect the shadowy path leading to the small bed currently occupied by their respective sovereigns, both of them silent, both of them still, staring intently into each other's eyes as if trying to guess their partner's intentions.

Zyra is the first one to break eye contact, she just sighs in defeat, tiredly shaking her head before burying her face into the spider queen's bosom making Elise smile softly.

The cultist's expression softens considerably, she nods dismissively at the spiders around the bed and then sighs, smooth pale arms carefully wrapping around her little flower.

The room is silent once again, the deadly armies of green and black silently sinking back in the shadows, scarlet eyes and crimson thorns disappearing under the blanket of darkness smothering the scarce moonlight.

Elise waits for a few long moments, her mind lost in thought, delicate taloned hands kept occupied by caressing the trembling back of her favorite plantmage, crimson irises alternating between trying to steal a peek at her lover's face and staring confusingly at the glistering dump window.

"Forgive me if I am wrong, but aren't plants supposed to enjoy rainfalls and water in general?"

Zyra doesn't answer at first, she just nods and then remains silent, letting the minutes keep ticking by, one of her wet tearstained cheeks still pressed against the spidermage's heart and the scarlet waterfall of her hair still hiding her crestfallen expression.

The two of them remain like that for what feels like hours, silently hugging in the dark, their curvy bodies tightly pressed against each other, merely appreciating each other's calming, reassuring presence until Zyra finally manages to gather her wits enough to whisper a few strained sentences from the safety of Elise's bosom.

"It's not the rain that scares me, but the bright lights and the booming sounds that accompanies it. The light is bad, very dangerous. It used to start fires and turn plants into ash when I was just a green patch at the rich soil of Kumungu."

Oh, that actually made sense. Elise had spend so much time around the adorable plantmage that she sometimes forgot about the fact that Zyra had originally been nothing more than a small red flower proudly blossoming inside the heart of the unexplored jungle of Kumungu.

" I-I remember listening to the roars of the sky and seeing the bright lights that rained death upon all those unfortunate plants and animals that happened to be on their way. I-I… didn't have legs like now back then and so I couldn't run away from the fire and the embers that killed so much plant life. And… and then the light struck near my sisters and I… I couldn't help them and I could only hope that I would be lucky enough to survive the night, but t-then… then the lights suddenly struck again and-."

"It's ok, dear, I understand. You don't have to talk about it if the memory scares you."

Elise cuts her off and the Spider Queen can't help but smile ruefully. She acknowledges that she is evil, cruel and merciless, a traitorous heartless woman sacrificing innocent souls at the altar of her sinister spider-god in order to refuel her immortality.

Countless men and women have followed her inside the cave of that beast after listening to her promises of wealth and power only to die a horrible death at the venomous fangs of Vilemaw.

And yet Elise doesn't mourn for their deaths or feel any shame for their loss and she doesn't even care enough to bring the news of their deaths to their friends and families. No, those faithful lambs are just tools for her, their deaths serving what the Spider Queen deems a worthy purpose. And yet as cruel and black hearted as she is Elise can't even fathom to allow her little flower to even shed a single tear.

"Lie down."

Zyra just nods and the plantmage is quick to follow the spider cultist's instructions as she instantly crawls back under the covers, hands still wrapped around Elise, her head still resting against her lover's ribcage.

Elise pauses for a moment, waiting for the tired plantmage to make herself comfortable before trying her idea, pale taloned hands carefully moving across the soft green leaf like fins decorating the plantmage's head before suddenly stopping, milky white palms now covering the sentient plant's ears.

"Thank you."

Her little flower sounds much happier now and so Elise can't help but smile widely, a feral expression usually so wicked and utterly terrifying that you make even the most courageous of knights flee in terror now kind and affectionate, softening her beautiful features, love and warmth practically radiating from the villainous woman's lustrous deep red, crimson irises.

Ruby lips descend under the veil of darkness in order to place one last chaste kiss on top of Zyra's vivid scarlet hair and the redhead smiles in return, her orange eyes closing and her heartbeat slowing down as her breathing finally returns to normal.

And it is not like the storm is over or that the blinding white snakes of the clouds have finally decided to return back to their fluffy caves in the sky and retire for the night.

Oh no, far from it, the wind outside the window is howling like the spirit of a madman and the thunder god keeps stabbing the dump earth with his spears of flickering light, but Zyra can't even pretend to care anymore.

Because oddly enough she feels happy and safe trapped inside the loving embrace of one of the most terrifying residents of the infamous Shadow Isles.

And so Zyra is fast asleep before even Elise drags the sheets over their naked bodies.

* * *

 **It was raining today so I felt like writing something appropriate and then I thought about the fires started by lightning and so while looking for characters for the story I found Zyra and thought that she was a pretty good choice for the setting but I am not so sure about Elise. I could have probably used Lux or even Annie and make it bittersweet. (No, not romance, just an innocent child trying to help an inhibited naïve adult that doesn't know much about the world surrounding them and so they are kind of similar. )**

 **I am really tired so I didn't check the chapter too intensively, it might have a lot of typos and mistakes. I also thought about putting small tags or summaries above each chapter so people would be able to know if the story interest them or not with just a glance but I am not really sure about it. It takes away some of the element of surprise, the stories are short anyway and I don't even know what tags to use at some of them. This one is completely neutral for example.  
**

* * *

 **Bonus scene**

Kennen grumbles in annoyance, stealthily walking away from the drenched neighborhood, shoulders hunched in defeat and forehead threatening to touch the ground. The yordle is angry, no, it is absolutely livid! It just lost its shot at the prank of the century!

How dares Zyra sleep so soundly during one of his thunderstorms? How could Elise calm the stupid plantwoman so easily? People weren't just supposed to overcome they deepest fears like that, or else how in Syndra's balls were Fiddlesticks and Nocturne still viable?

The electrocool yordle scowled, furious bloodshot eyes angrily staring at the drenched fur of its hands, its already disturbing expression slowly twisting into a menacing smirk crazy enough to make even Shaco and Jinx flinch and run away in fear.

 _Preposterous!_ Kennen thought, _I am a mystical warrior, a preserver of balance, Barry Allen, the awesome Flash and that guy from Infamous combined! I am freaking Pikachu version 2 that can actually speak in complete sentences and has enough brainpower and medical knowledge to actually become a doctor! I am perfect! I even have a karate skin and can kick Lee's butt with my eyes closed! So why in Warwick's favorite tea set no one seems to like me!_

The sound of thunder and the endless howling of the wind were the only answers the troubled yordle received as it slowly made its way towards the little forest surrounding the institute and also a really unfortunate sentient tree that would soon be set ablaze.

And Kennen in fact was so lost in thought that he never actually noticed the lithe figure following him from above the treetops jumping around like a buffed Kha'zix on steroids.

"Please notice me, Kennen Senpai."

Akali whispered while staring dreamily at the tiny yordle, her perverted mind already occupied by dirty images of Kennen and his strong, toned fuzzy body covered in syrup and frozen delicacies."

And somewhere inside the Institute's walls Shen shivered and snuggled closer to Blitzcrank.


	8. ShyvanaxFiora

**Anger**

The potent feeling rages inside Shyvana's heart, overwhelming the dragoness' mind, filling the young woman's very soul with black wicked thoughts in the likeness of the dim lighted room that serves as her prison.

Raw and ruthless like her leering captors and sinister like the magical chains restraining her limbs, bestowed to her by the treacherous humankind.

The greedy Shuriman slavers eye her carefully and smirk, already dreaming of the golden coins they are going to obtain after selling her body. And deep inside her, Shyvana can already tell that those men can't even see her as a person. Oh no, she is something less than a living creature and something more than plain merchandise for them, she is just a mindless…

 **Beast**

That's what the man calls her as he collapses on the floor, gold coins slipping from his now torn pockets and extravagant blue robes now stained with his blood. He shouts the word over and over again all the while desperately crawling away from the malnourished dragon-demon that he had attempted purchasing.

The slavers then proceed to beat Shyvana until she loses conscience, but the dragoness just smiles bitterly and no one else dares to slip a hand under her rags the following day.

 **Carmine**

The dark red color of blood seems to follow her everywhere. It fills her mouth and stains her cell, rolls off her cheeks and coats her sickly injured frame. It is in the eyes of the merchants and the disgusting watered-down wine they seem to be so fond of and even the scarce rays of sunlight that manage to peek between the rusty bars blocking her window.

The sun rises once again, a single crimson iris staring down at her as if taunting her whole existence and the dragoness hisses, taloned hands clenching into fists as the door of her cell suddenly slams open.

 **Doctor**

That despicable Zaunite is the dragoness' first owner. He grumbles and grunts, poking at her with pointy tools and crooked appendages, mumbling incoherent sentences all the while spraying her skin with toxic boiling chemicals and poisons.

And Shyvana can only scream and cry out in pain as the wealthy man and renowned scientist keeps destroying her draconic body in the pursuit of knowledge.

Fortunately for the poor dragoness the man is also an avid gambler and loses his precious guinea pig in a bet before even the sixth sun rises.

 **Elegant**

Shyvana's next owner is an elegant young heiress. She is kinder than the dragoness previous owner, but certainly not above harsh punishments every time the slave draws her ire and Shyvana doesn't even bother asking her to release her like her first owner.

What is required from her is quite simple this time. Stay still, gaze at the dukes and wealthy visitors and smile politely, be a part of the decor like the golden dishes and the silken rugs and all the other extravagant furniture filling this damn manor like a freaking treasury. Oh, and try to look pretty while she is at it as the dukes and nobles gawk at her in awe.

Shyvana doesn't really like being showcased like that and being this woman's _pet_ really hurts her draconic pride, but she then reminds herself of her first owner and lowers her head in submission.

There are a lot of worse fates after all than being a spoiled brat's exotic plaything and surgical tools certainly hurt a lot more than condescending remarks and playful tugs of her chain.

 **Fondly**

The way her owner looks at her some times, her eyes soft and her lips drawn into a tiny smile, but the dragoness has no illusions about humans' nature at this point and knows that Fiora's thoughts are only occupied by crafty schemes and new ways to show off her family's power.

The proud gaze of the duelist only serving to further unnerve the enslaved dragoness.

 **Grandiose**

A servant glares at her and Shyvana instinctively lowers her head in an instant, exhausted golden orbs now locked on the rich Demacian carpet beneath her as the particularly rude butler proceeds to huff in annoyance and walk away mumbling something about _dumb animals_.

Shyvana sighs, eyes still cast downwards, her tired body encased in a ridiculous blue and gold outfit, the magical collar draining her draconic strength still wrapped around her pale throat as she silently makes her way to the dining room, already dreading the noisy mob of humans and their lustful glares directed at her voluptuous body.

 **Heart**

Fiora has been acting weird the last couple of days, she's had removed the chains from her wrists, toned-down the weird dresses and outfits, let the dragoness move from the basement to a spare room on the first floor and even allowed the slave to dine with her on a few rare occasions instead of eating with the rest of the servants like usually.

The odd behavior makes Shyvana nervous, her feelings of unease further intensifying inside her already wrecked psyche, but there is nothing the dragoness can do in order to appease those feelings and so she just lowers her gaze and holds her tongue and bows in front of the duelist every time Fiora even glances her way.

Shyvana of course doesn't notice the duelist's sad expression, neither does she notice Fiora's hurt look every time the dragoness falls to her knees and lowers her head in submission.

 **Introvert**

The Half-Dragon isn't really a talkative person. She follows her owner's orders and then quickly retires in the relative safety of her room, preferring the reassuring confines of her small bedroom and the thick walls of her own solitude instead of the annoyed glares of the maids and the lecherous smiles of the servants being cast her way.

Shyvana rarely speaks her mind anymore and the few words she utters are usually short responses to her owner's questions.

 **Jest**

Shyvana staggers, small warm droplets of crimson blood slowly spilling from the slave's ashen hair, staining the dragoness' simple white dress with ugly red smudges all the while filling the majestic marble stairs with sanguine liquid flowers reeking copper.

Shyvana grunts, one hand slowly rising, taloned fingers carefully closing around the red blood-spitting wound on her forehead, the laughter of a particularly evil maid still echoing in the dragoness ears.

Somebody gasps and Shyvana sighs in defeat when she finally notices Fiora standing at the bottom of the staircase, eyes wide open and mouth slightly agape staring at the sight before her in what assumes is terror, her expensive boots now clearly stained with crimson.

"I am sorry, mistress. Please forgive your stupid clumsy slave."

The dragoness hurriedly kneels next to the shocked duelist, her head wound completely forgotten as she carefully starts wiping the blood from Fiora's bloodstained footwear all the while muttering whispered apologies, her lifeblood still rolling down her neck and chin, pooling under her feet with every passing second.

And Shyvana is so focused at appeasing her no doubt furious master that she doesn't even notice Fiora's heartbroken expression or the way the duelist's eyes darken as she angrily glares at the petrified maid staring at them from atop the staircase.

But she certainly notices Fiora's careful touch and the intricate handkerchief pressed against her bloodstained forehead as the duelist anxiously tries to stop her bleeding.

 **Kindness**

Shyvana still doesn't know what to think of Fiora's recently odd behavior, she keeps the ruined bloodstained handkerchief inside one of her nightstand's drawers and steals curious peeks at the duelist every time the chance arises.

The enslaved dragon keeps fulfilling her duties to the best of her abilities, doing her chores, taking care of the garden and even occasionally helping out in the kitchen when the other maids are occupied.

The dragoness still keeps her head down and avoids any unnecessary contact. The humans around her seem nervous, equally perplexed by the heiress' behavior.

The insults stop along with most of the teasing and the angry glares disappear and Shyvana soon eardrops that the maid that had recently pushed her off the top of the staircase was fired yesterday.

 **Lux**

"Would you like more tea, milady?"

The magical prodigy smiles and nods, offering her cup at the enslaved dragoness and the maid bows respectfully before reaching for the small ornate teapot, swiftly serving the blonde mage in front of her with quick calculated moves, literally beaten into her from the first days of her servitude.

"Thank you, Shyv."

Lady Luxanna smiles politely and the dragoness just bows again, her dull yellow orbs intently locked on the luxurious carpet as the mage's smile slowly melts into a frown.

The renowned Demacian duelist sitting next to her remains silent, her defeated gaze focused anywhere but the stone-faced dragoness as heavy sour moments slowly give way to long bitter minutes filled with awkward silence.

"So, I heard that Sona recently joined a band from the Shadow Isles…"

The light mage's halfhearted attempt to initiate a conversation seem to only fall on deaf ears and the blonde noblewoman sighs, forced to watch Shyvana's quiet rigid form and her fellow noblewoman's pitiful failed attempts to meet the dragoness eyes for the rest of the evening.

 **Mistress**

The duelist takes half a step back, pulling away from the silent maid and their shared kiss, the heat of the dragoness' breath still lingering on her lips, a rosy hue painting Fiora's cheeks pink like the brush of an adept painter dancing across her features.

The heiress takes a deep breath, her body still pressed against the dragoness, her chest heaving as if she has just run a marathon, fingers still wrapped around her servant's collar and eyes still locked with the dragoness'"

"Well? Do you get what I have been trying to tell you?"

The slave just nods, yellow tired orbs calmly meeting Fiora's pale blue ones. The message is quite clear considering how the duelist has just suddenly lunged at her and kissed her.

"Yes, I understand. I am not your slave anymore."

Fiora smiles, happily nodding her head as if to emphasize the dragoness words only for her smile to freeze on her face the moment her eyes abruptly catch the steely glow of the dragoness' irises.

"I am your new courtesan."

The noblewoman's smile fades, her hopes and dreams suddenly sinking inside her stomach, her hear shattering, mercilessly crashed under the weight of Shyvana's cold tired golden eyes.

"Am I also supposed to take care of the maids and the servants? What about the guards at the gate keeping watch? Am I to sleep with them or are my services exclusively limited to the men and women of your household?

Well? Talk to me, mistress, there are people waiting in line for my services."

Even to this day Shyvana can't really decide what was the most painful thing she had experienced that terrible evening.

The duelist's fierce slap delivered to her with every ounce of strength the noblewoman's athletic body could muster or the way Fiora had looked at her afterwards? An expression of pure agony adorning her beautiful face and hurt cyan eyes ready to burst into tear, before the duelist abruptly dashes away, sobbing all the way to her chambers.

 **Observations**

"You there, have you seen the mistress?"

The elderly man scoffs, he tries to push Shyvana's taloned arm away and then scowls when the dragoness refuses to release his appendage, her superior strength easily keeping the man in place.

"Lady Fiora is sick actually, she has instructed us not to be disturbed her today and ordered for her food to be delivered to her bedroom."

"I will bring it to her."

"No, that won't be possible I am afraid. Lady Fiora has specifically asked for Charles to be the one to bring her meal. You can help the servants in the stable if you are already done with your chores.

Now, if you would excuse me, I have some urgent matters to take care of."

A pointed stare at his hand and Shyvana reluctantly releases the gruff servant. The enslaved maid just huffs in annoyance and then starts walking towards the stable, Fiora's grief-stricken face still fresh on the ashen-haired slave's mind.

 **Patience**

Fiora acts as if the whole kiss incident never happened in the first place when she finally emerges from her chambers.

She keeps the dragoness close and Shyvana silently wonders if the duelist notices her poorly concealed exhaustion when Fiora only starts appointing her the easiest tasks and duties in the manor.

Shyvana still feels kind of awkward, the fact that the duelist hasn't made any advances towards her both frightening and soothing, and the dragoness tries not to pay too much attention to it when she suddenly realizes that most if not all of her new appointed chores seem to centered around the proud noblewoman's daily life and activities.

 **Question**

"Are you afraid of me?"

The usually pompous duelist's hesitantly uttered question easily manages to catch the brooding dragoness completely off guard and Shyvana pauses, one hand still frozen in mid air, narrowed golden eyes still aimlessly wandering towards the clean, freshly washed pile of clothes stacked in front of her before slowly slipping towards her expectant mistress and her anguished cyan lakes of wet shimmering pain.

That's an interesting question, but like with most things in Shyvana's life the enslaved dragoness seems to lack a proper response to the heiress question.

Yes and no, the dragoness hates Fiora's power over her, she undoubtedly despites the cursed choker draining her strength and is certainly terrified of the day the noblewoman inevitably gets bored of her and decides to sell her back to the slavers, but is she really afraid of Fiora as a person?

No, or that's at least what the dragoness tells to herself and she tries not to dwell too much on that matter. The noblewoman is strict and arrogant, yes, but she have never punished or humiliated out of sheer malice and hate like most of the humans she has encountered.

"Only in certain ways, I am certainly afraid of all the terrible things you could do to me, if you so desired." The dragoness answers truthfully and Fiora seems to wilt under her golden gaze, hurt pale blue eyes intentionally avoiding her crush as her eyes suddenly dart towards the carpet.

The tense silence shrouding the room in misery suddenly dissipates when Fiora finally sighs and takes a step forward, her expression forlorn even as her gaze alternates between desperate and determined.

"And what if I released your bindings and instead put on your collar on myself."

The dragoness blinks in surprise, wide golden orbs instantly darting to the duelist's face, scrutinizing the proud woman's fair facial features for any visible signs of humor or deceit, but Fiora's pale gaze can only convey determination and sincerity to the young dragon and that's the first time in Shyvana's whole life when she actually can't help but believe the words of a human.

 **Reach**

Shyvana lays spread in the silken sheets of the noblewoman, Fiora's slumbering form tightly pressed against her chest, short dark bangs concealing the duelist's expression and magical engraved collar visibly strapped around the milky valuable neck of the once proud noblewoman.

The dragoness stares at it intently, her powerful taloned arms tightly wrapped around her new captive's toned pale stomach, easily keeping the sleeping beauty in place.

The pensive dragoness hums in thought, still not quite used to the duelist's new peculiar arrangements and Shyvana briefly stiffens, narrowed golden eyes calmly examining the blushing heiress as she abruptly shifts in her sleep only to stop a few moments later, her head pressed against one of the muscular shoulder of her new owner and a shy but content expression of joy gracing her soft features.

Shyvana can only snort in amusement, the famous duelist was apparently quite the cuddler and yet it is certainly not for the first time that the dragoness silently wonders about the beautiful heiress' real intentions.

Because for all of Fiora's apparent obedience and submissive behavior the dragoness can't help but doubt the heiress' persistent suggestions of sleeping together in case one of her loyal servants tries to free her from the clutches of the dragon while Shyvana is sleeping.

Shyvana had reluctantly agreed after considering her available choices, the idea of using Fiora's safety as a bargaining chip both unnerving and reassuring, but looking at the duelist's alluring form now clinging to her like some kind of love-struck kitten all the while smiling happily the dragoness can't help but wonder if the oddly affectionate duelist was actually the real one benefiting the most from their little sleeping deal.

 **Scales**

Golden eyes narrow dangerously, intently following the duelist's every move as Fiora slowly starts descending, kissing the small rough patches of scarred scaled flesh near the dragoness' chest and stomach all the while still looking at the flustered dragoness, shivers and moan in pleasure.

But then the duelist suddenly stops, she takes a small breath and then shyly glances at Shyvana, pale sky blue eyes now filled with doubt and reluctance staring embarrassingly at feral golden orb practically brimming with lust and hunger.

"Keep going. "

Shyvana's loud dark voice practically dripping with heat and intense desire is the only warning Fiora gets before the dragoness suddenly grabs the duelist's scalp, roughly shoving the duelist's face between her eager inner thighs before the flustered heiress can even comprehend what is actually happening.

"I think I told you to keep going. "

Shyvana's strained voice is a heated whisper, both threatening and pleading at the same time, her lustful urgent tone suddenly reverberating inside the dim lighted chamber and Fiora hesitantly obeys as the dragoness abruptly tosses back her head and roars in delight.

 **Test**

The dragoness takes a single step backwards, her expression determined, fierce warm golden eyes still locked on the crying face of her beloved noblewoman silently observing her from the edge of the path leading inside the forest.

"Shyv… Please don't leave me. I promise that I will do my best to make you happy. Please, I love you."

Another distancing step and the duelist burst into tears, but Shyvana keep moving forward desperately trying to ignore the aching pain in her chest and the pleas of her wailing lover.

She has to do this, she has to escape the vile land of man and test Fiora's sincerity. She has to make sure that all of this time, all the moments they hugged and spent together, all the soft kisses and heated lovemaking and heartfelt word they have exchanged aren't just some kind of sick joke to further torment and humiliate her.

One can never be sure enough with cunning beings as treacherous and despicable as humans after all, and so the dragoness turns her back on the faint path and the heartbroken noble and the wails of her lover and makes a run for it.

Darting between ancient trees, twisted roots and thick foliage even as Fiora's heartrending voice slowly fades away and her own tears finally manage to escape the prison of her closed eyelids, free like herself.

And then the dragoness starts wailing in pain even as her feet keep carrying her forward, farther away from her beloved life-mate.

 **Urge**

The urge to turn back and return to the land of man and her, no doubt heartbroken life-mate, mercilessly torments the poor young dragoness for the majority of the dull lonely days she spends away from her lover.

But Shyvana just grits her teeth and keeps moving forward, her mournful pitiful roars and more than occasional sobs shattering the relative silence of each lover-less night she is forced to spend alone in the dark woods like earth-splitting thunders slamming down to earth with the force of a gigantic sledgehammer as the dragoness heart aches and yearns for her lost lover.

 **Visitor**

Shyvana instantly spots the intruder from her perch atop an oak tree. The woman is clearly injured, malnourished, staggering clumsily between the rocks and roots of the forest's floor with each exhausted footstep she takes and the dragoness dully wonders what kind of brainless idiot decides to trek through an unmapped forest while wearing a magical strength-draining slaver band strapped around her throat. It is apparently her lover.

 **Winter**

The restless sound of passing snowstorms and howling winter gales somehow manages to reach the slumbering dragoness' ears, but Shyvana blatantly ignores it. She just presses a chaste kiss against her life-mate's neck and tightly wraps her arms around her and then goes back to sleep. Fiora smiles in her sleep, her lover's reassuring warmth emanating from her the dragoness' naked body and an abandoned slaver collar mindlessly discarded somewhere inside the floor of their concealed cave.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Writter's note: You know I was waiting for a ranked queue and thought that it would be pretty entertaining to write a word for each letter of the English alphabet and then write small prompts in order to occupy myself while I am waiting for other players. I found some decent words, stopped a few letter short since I could find a word starting with x and then started writing this oneshot and it somehow managed to reach this point.**

* * *

 **Now time for some more mature notes. The plot behind the story was based on an idea I had a little while ago after reading some smutty fanfics. The endings of those stories always annoyed me, you see. Since I always found it hard to believe that the captor would be happy after completely destroying the poor victim and everything that made it so special to the villain's eyes.**

 **And then I started wondering. What if there is something more behind those tragic stories, what if the tragedy doesn't for once come from the beaten, abused victim but the actual perpetrator? What if the villain actually falls in love with the now lifeless captive and only realizes it after completely breaking her/ him/ it?**

 **Imagine all the anguish and the tragedy emanating from the knowledge that the captor was the one to utterly destroy that person's identity and the desperate struggle to restore its mind. I liked how fresh the idea sounded and instantly started writing a story about Shyvana and Fiora being sold to LeBlanc as slaves and then lb using her illusions to impersonate Fiora and come closer to Shyv after Fiora somehow escaped or died. The clueless dragoness keeps trying to protect Fiora from LB clone only to later realize that LB was just toying with her all along.**

 **Add some madness since Shyv can't trust her own eyes anymore and her realization that she has slept with the mage, LB trying to atone for her actions and maybe Shyvana dying since she is a hybrid and her human body can't cope with her dragon blood and LB knowing that Shyv's time is running out and there you have it, a heartless masterpiece milking the reader's ( and also the writer's ) salty tears.**

 **Too bad that this plot is so utterly cruel and twisted that I can't possibly bring myself to write that heart-stomping monstrosity even though I think it would make for an good tragedy. Although I might post the introduction chapter at some point since I have already written it. Feel free to borrow the idea if you want to write such a story, the more the merrier, or at least in this case the sadder. You know what I am trying to say right? Have a nice day.**


	9. A blonde spy's downfall

Lux was trekking down a Noxian military base, her blue eyes dull and unfocused and blood slowly slipping through her clothes, the bottom half of her face already covered in the red, life-sustaining sticky liquid. The spy grunts in annoyance, her hazy eyesight frantically jumping between the empty corridors before her and the rows upon rows of sturdy black doors covering the majority of the base's interior.

Espionage wasn't supposed to be this hard, the mage mused bitterly. Spying and generally collecting intelligence were the blonde light mage's specialty after all. But who would have known that those evil crafty, FILTHY Noxians would have prepared such a wretched trap to foil her ingenious plans and all her meticulous preparations?

Lux sighs, dull blue eyes still trying to pierce the misty veil created by her extensive blood loss as she slowly makes her way out of the base and towards her secret extraction point, small crimson flowers blossoming behind her every unsteady footstep.

-Half an hour ago-

Lux flashes a confident smile, easily avoiding the closest Noxian patrol as she stealthily slips inside the old fortified building, her expert control over light and its properties enabling her to create an invisible shield, capable of erasing her very existence from the eyes of the dumb, brutish Noxians.

The mage however doesn't let her guard down, she moves slowly, methodically, intelligent bright blue eyes carefully scanning every doorway and new hall for enemy spell casters and magical glyphs or hextech alarms capable of interfering with her magic, magical baton tightly held in hand and silent footsteps leading her towards the heart of the building.

The Noxians doesn't seem to be adept at detecting magic. That's the Demacian spy's first observation as she finally reaches the general's office, the lack of magical countermeasures making the magical prodigy roll her eyes in disdain. The young mage frowns, her hand still hovering over the locked room's golden doorknob as her mind gets lost in thought, currently evaluating her recent performance.

The infiltration had been just too easy so far and the Noxian sorcerers weren't supposed to be such pathetic pushovers. They've had terrifying spell casters like general Swain, Emilia LeBlanc and even Vladimir, the evil hemomancer after all, and so such an easy trek in the heart of a Noxian base should be impossible even for someone as cunning and skilled as the Lady of Luminosity.

The mage suddenly freezes, the clanking of heavy armor and the thunderous sound of footsteps making her tiny heart stop in fright and her blood turn into ice. The blonde spy stealthily spares a quick glance towards the source of the disturbance and then gasps, her invisible gaze somehow crossing paths with the furious glare of a tall angry Noxian almost twenty whole meters away.

"…

Lux instantly dashes away, practically lunging into another corridor and then another one, running blindly inside the occupied military base as the clueless Noxian patrol slowly marches forward.

"Hey, Steve, did you just hear something? " One of the guards slowly asks his angry companion, only to be ignored with an agitated huff and a shrug of his armored shoulders and the first guard just sighs, tired brown eyes darting towards the empty, dim lit corridor as the patrol slowly continues casually strolling down the dark hallway.

"Come on man, stop acting like a child. I won that bet fairly and you just have to get over it."

The furious Noxian soldier grunts something unintelligible under his breath and just keep moving forward and his annoyed friend can only sigh in defeat and silently follow his friend's example.

"Could you at least stop glaring down at everything, I swear you are gonna give some poor sod a heart attack."

The guard grunts again and the other Noxian just sighs and drops the matter in favor of whistling a tune from Sona's latest album.

Meanwhile with Lux

Luxanna is panting, her ragged breaths noisily escaping from her lips and nostrils as she unceremoniously darts inside a deserted changing room and shoves herself inside an empty locker, her usually tranquil mind now overwhelmed with fear and her petite body trembling slightly. The Noxians are on to her, they are closing in, following her every move.

The mage is quite sure of it since that burly furious Noxian had just downright glared at her. Are her ingenious cloaking spells perhaps malfunctioning, were the Noxian soldiers using some kind of weird new technology capable of detecting her? Did she even slip in undetected or was that part of some kind of ploy to capture and interrogate her?

The door to the changing room suddenly slams open and Lux barely manages to stop herself from screaming as two female Noxian soldiers abruptly enter the room and start approaching her locker.

"Come on Kat, I know that you have been ogling my butt for quite some time now, so either kiss me or just get over it. Your gaze is distracting, to say the least."

Lux blinks, terrified crystal blue eyes carefully peeking at the tall loud women through the small horizontal holes in her locker. The mage frowns, her heart soars through the clouds, could it be that these soldiers didn't enter the room in order to capture her? Could the mage actually be safe for the time being? The blonde noblewoman certainly hopes so.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Riv… And I certainly have no interest in your firm big butt, your mouthwatering bosom, your beautiful scarlet eyes, your rosy lips, your curvy form, your soft and yet toned body. Yes, I certainly have no interest in any of those things, y-you big, dumb idiot."

Lux quietly facepalms, her shocked cyan-colored eyes suddenly turning into big crystal blue saucers as she silently observes the faint embarrassed blush adorning the feared Sinister Blade's cheeks and the cute pout of her mouth.

"Kat… come in here. "

Riven, the famous Noxian poster child suddenly opens her arms and stares at the assassin in front of her expectantly, her usually neutral sanguine gaze now kind and comforting and the hidden spy almost gasps when the Sinister Blade slowly approaches the taller woman and presses her cheek against the renowned soldier's bosom.

The magical prodigy is beyond flustered at this point, wide cyan eyes intently staring at the two beautiful women, her fair face completely red and the faintest hints of blood slowly leaking from her nostrils. Is this the mysterious romance between women, the spy has been recently hearing about? The same one depicted in the majority of Fiora's dirty perverted books, the ones that Garen has explicitly forbidden the young mage from even approaching? The young mage is curious and yet excited, since she now has the chance to observe that obscure genre of fine literature in its natural habitat.

"Look, Kat, I know that you are scared, but I am also scared. You are such a beautiful, intelligent, dangerous, woman and also a noble while I am just a poor decorated soldier, that doesn't deserve your affections. And yet you mean so much for me, too much in fact not to try to win your heart and make you mine.

So it is ok if you are not interest in me and my curvy body, the hidden bunny costume I keep under my bed that makes even women have nosebleeds, and all the kinky toys, handcuffs, gags and lubricants I keep in my locker. But won't you please give me a chance to prove to you that I can make this thing between us work, and even make you happy? Please? For me?"

The redhead just nods and the Noxian soldier smiles and even Lux smiles a little bit as she wipes away her happy tears. Love is a beautiful thing after all and the mage is happy that even Noxians are capable of feeling such emotions.

"Good, so how about we celebrate our newly formed relationship by tirelessly fucking against that empty locker over there?"

"Sure. "

Lux's eyes instantly widen in shock, the young maiden's heart suddenly overwhelmed with horror as she helplessly watches the two Noxian celebrities slowly approach her locker.

Sometime later

The teary-eyed mage finally drags herself out of the bloody locker, her gaze devoid of life and her nose still leaking blood profusely. The traumatized light mage slowly starts stumbling towards the exit, her face now painted with a permanent blush as she slowly makes her way out of the room, trying very hard not to touch any of the offending unsanitary objects and the empty bottles of lube scattered throughout the whole chamber.

One thing Lux knows for certain, this one is going to be her last spying mission. Let Xin or Poppy or even Galio (if he is still even there, Lux haven't encountered him in mid in years) deal with those filthy Noxian exhibitionists and their soft, enormous, sexy, womanly cushions that she is personally lacking. What? She has her own pride as a woman too, ok?!

* * *

 **Chapter's Notes: I was trying for more of an anime feel, but Lux's reactions needed to be more detailed to have any impact and I lost interest after a while. I also wanted to include scenes with Lux eavesdropping suggestive things from the men's dorm and fangirls without realizing that they were just talking while playing videogames and also a scene where Swain would explain that he couldn't possibly afford to install security systems because he used all of the military budget in order to buy tiny clothes and outfits for his favorite, adorable kawai crow and make him act silly like that, but yeah…**

 **And maybe a scene where Lux enters a room when LeBlanc whips someone with chains to traumatize Lux even farther, possibly Talon that would be a masochist... Ok, I shut up now, I might use these ideas some other time.**


	10. Pokemon sing-along fiction

**The idea behind the story: Someone recently commented on another story of mine in which Shyvana is Quinn's Pokemon (Shameless self promotion, I know). The reviewer asked me to add a few more Pokemon in order to make the story more interesting and expand my universe. Unfortunately for all of you that suddenly reminded me of Pokemon's timeless theme song and then before I even noticed or managed to control myself I had already started writing this oneshot.**

 **Summary: A lot of loony things happen and the world as we know it almost ends when suddenly Pokemon's and League's concepts collide. Well, I am fairly certain that this wasn't what the reviewer had in mind when he asked me to add a few more Pokemon, but I definitely had fun writing this and it is already finished so… Oups!**

* * *

The scene starts at Summoner's Rift, one of, if not the most popular field of justice after the usually crowded and generally preferred Dominion map.

Everything seems quite normal at first. Jinx is still the most popular adc, Draven is failing at last hitting cs, Braum is facepalming every time his adc misses a minion while Galio obviously remains unpicked.

Kayle is moving towards mid, gracefully gliding through the sky, Udyr is leisurely setting up his tent near the wolf camp and Yasuo keeps spamming his level 8 mastery emote (he paid a little more when he bought the account than usual) as a really sad teary-eyed Kassadin desperately tries to avoid his almost infinite barrage of toothpick-stabs and unlimited yolo dashes.

The rest of the players are currently standing afk in their respective fountains since some useless no-life scrub instalocked their prefered lane or intentionally banned their favorite champions.

Suddenly, without even the faintest warning other than this particular line I am currently writing a loud manly voice abruptly echoes all over the bloody stained lanes of the infamous Summoner's Rift, carrying with it a breathtakingly rich voice filled with vigor.

 **I wanna be the very best**

Draven abruptly pauses, let's an almost dead half-limping Jinx run away and then rises his eyes towards the bright blue sky and the invisible singing man before shrugging and uttering an almost agitated: "then try to be more like Draaaaaven."

Braum then just throws down his enormous shield and promptly walks away leaving Draven at the mercy of his opponents.

 **Like no one ever was**

Kassadin sighs, blatantly trying to ignore the silly catchy song whereas Yasuo's blade is somehow spitting sparks and lightning… Wasn't that supposed to be Kennen's job? Kassadin dully wonders.

 **To catch them is my real test**

Jinx just laughs at that since not even Piltover's finest were able to capture the insane terrorist.

 **To train them is my cause**

But unfortunately for Jinx her mirthful giggles are almost instantly cut short when out of nowhere emerges Emilia LeBlanc, dressed in her usual revealing dominatrix outfit. Pale delicate fingers tightly wrapped around a thin long leather whip and a dangerous predatory glint mighty obvious in the assassin's eyes, as the now smiling black witch slowly approaches the madly blushing, stuttering Loose Cannon.

 **I will travel across the land** **  
** **searching far and wide**

Udyr just raises an eyebrow at that. Search? Why would anyone foolishly run and dash all over the Rift's jungle when he could just as well patiently wait near the usually abandoned wolf camp? Any capable hunter could then repeatedly proceed to kill the dumb beasts over and over again and claim their magically summoned gold coins.

Aaand since no one actually monitored low elo matches, Udyr could even consider skinning the dumb beasts while he was at it and then sell their pelts and furs to outsiders… The ingenious jungler silently smirked at this thought, loudly complimenting himself as he slowly moved the portable Jacuzzi set near the nearest patch of tall bushes.

 **Teach Leagueamon to understand** **  
** **The power that's inside!**

Kayle snorts at that part, she puts out the magic fire licking the entire length of her thin golden sword and then spares a quick glance at the fake unmoving white clouds tirelessly reciting this invisible loud madman's little anthem.

"Leagueamon? What in Bard's name is a Leagueamon anywa-

Kha'Zix suddenly appears out of nowhere, he swiftly slashes at the distracted armored angel's back and then follows up with an equally swift, but even more powerful kick that doesn't actually slay the beautiful warrior, but certainly knocks her off the sky. Kayle gasps then, pained crystal blue orbs grudgingly rising towards her violent madly cackling assailant.

…

Wait? Why in Teemo's red horned scalp is Kha'Zix painted emerald green and… is that Dragon Trainer Lulu suddenly barging out of a nearby bush or are her eyes deceiving her?

…

And more importantly why in the nine elo hells is Lulu casually patting the currently purring but still unmistakably green void-beast's shoulder?

"Good job, Scyther!" Lulu quips and then hurriedly makes her way towards the still downed angelic maiden.

"I got no ss, report my team and surrender at 20' " Kayle tiredly mutters in remorse, desperately trying to protect the little pride she has left by shifting the blame to others, but the purple yordle standing before her just laughs at that resulting in Kayle raising a blonde eyebrow in confusion.

" I am your lane opponent you silly butterflower. I was just afk at base for the last ten minutes or so because mommy called me for dinner."

Kayle just flinches at that and then pathetically lowers her head in shame, doing her best to hide her pain and embarrassment.

"Don't worry little tulip, I am going to take good care of you" The yordle reassures and a curious Kayle slowly raises her gaze only to come face to face with a small plastic sphere colored in bright red and white, some kind of crimson beam steadily building up inside its tiny core as if preparing to unleash on of Viktor's infamous deadly death rays.

"Hm, I think I will be calling you Feathermon. Either that or Wingy, I haven't decided yet but we will find out soon, don't we?" Lulu muses and then the device explodes, bright scarlet light instantly engulfs the frightened angel and Kayle's world is drowned in black inky darkness.

 **[Chorus]** **  
** **Leagueamon! Gotta** **catch 'em all** **!**

A frenzied struggle seems to suddenly take place inside the various occupied fields of Justice as all kind of dangerous encounters ensue and plastic dichromatic spheres seem to be covering the entire bright blue sky.

 **It's you and me**

"I am so sorry." Caitlyn whispers in obvious heartache, her wet aquamarine orbs slowly darting between the injured, panting wide eyed pinkette laying at her feet and the small army of wannabe trainers that swiftly approach them, each one more frantic and excited than the other.

Caitlyn then raises the small plastic ball and points it towards her weak downed partner. A blinding flash of red then suddenly engulfs the bravely smiling enforcer and Vi silently disappears from the green grass-covered clearing.

 **I know it's my destiny** **,**

Syndra is currently standing over the edge of her huge flying fortress overlooking Ionia, a dark mass of growling agitated figures twitching and jerking behind her. Three small plastic red and white balls lazily levitating around her form as the powerful sorceress silently glares at the country that once betrayed her.

One pale gloved hand rises and angrily turns into a fist and so the mass of enslaved champions and scrubs hurriedly dash towards the still unsuspecting currently tranquil city, an already sobbing Irelia being the first one to unwillingly lead the dark charge against her beautiful home and former homeland.

 **Leagueamon! Oh you're my best** **friend** **  
** **in a world we must defend**

The scene changes again as Lee Sin, proud jungler and not so proudly blind monk bravely stands against Syndra's dark cruel invasion with Kennen and Wukong, his trusty Leaguamons silently standing by his side.

Lee Sin sighs and nods once, swiftly gesturing towards the dark army of invaders and the doomed rapidly burning city before them.

"Today we fight for Ionia"

The blind monk lowly whispers hoping to inspire some tiny fragment of hope towards his obviously horrified still silent companions. His faithful Leaguamons no doubt having suddenly lost their voice after watching the violent cruel crusade raged by Syndra's dark soldiers and the complete and utter destruction her army leaves in its wake .

Or that's at least what the blind monk assumes, but that's wrong since the bare truth is that Kennen and Wukong have long since fled the doomed city…

 **Leagueamon! Gotta** **catch 'em all** **!**

Even more Leagueballs seem to pierce the Rift's cold refreshing air, ranging from expensive Masterballs, to Diamondballs all the way to the useless cheap Bronzeballs that can only capture a weakened Nunu.

Nunu! Not Willump, the giant angry yeti charging at you ready to devour your guts and lungs, but Nunu, the small fragile child riding the usually calm furry titan.

 **A heart so true.** **Our courage will pull us through** **,  
** **You teach me and I'll teach you** **,** **Leagueamon!**

We now zoom in what appears to be an elementary class filled with enslaved league champions and their respective trainers. Heimerdinger is standing before an old dusty blackboard endlessly rumbling about Leagueamon types and the countless new ways to possibly improve a Leagueamon's fighting potential.

Such as giving them rare candy and drugs, forcing them to devour machines in order to teach them new moves and feeding them shiny crystals.

Fortunately for all the Leagueamon only Lux and Quinn are actually taking notes or even paying attention at the smart yordle-man. Most of them are either drawing Draven faces, setting things on fire or sleeping. Garen for example is currently asleep, occasionally mumbling nonsense about his huge hard as steel giant sword and how much he like Demass-ians. Completely coincidentally, seated just a few seats behind the sleeping man Katarina is blushing profusely.

 **Gotta catch 'em all**

Jinx is flying through the air perched on top of a giant white and red Leagueball as the small army of similar giant projectiles rapidly descend towards the shiny city Piltover.

 **Gotta catch 'em all**

The scaly dogs of Bilgewater, Gangplank's infamous despicable crew of murderers, thieves, wrongdoers and occasional candy-stealers can only sweat, curse and grunt in exhaustion, all the while dully wondering what in the nine tentacles is wrong with the Capt', if Nakagakabouros really exists and what exactly are those weird plastic things they have been loading into their cannons and guns all day.

 **[Chorus]**

 **Every challenge along the way** **  
** **with courage I will face** **.**

Darius is running for his life, his dumb, ugly and annoying butt of a brother is actually stupid enough to seriously attempt duck-taping the cheap plastic Leagueballs all over his deadly razor-sharp weapons and then try enslaving him by attempting to headshot his big bro with those same previously mentioned weapons!

 **I will battle every day** **  
** **To claim my rightful place** **.**

Syndra is laughing in amusement, deep purple glowing irises silently drinking in the grim sight before her. Karma is choking, tears steadily rolling down her dark flushed cheeks as an equally teary-eyed Irelia is gradually strangling her.

"Please… please stop. Don't make me do this." Irelia sobs as her traitorous hands are slowly choking the life out of her dear childhood friend and until recently enough also political leader.

Syndra just laughs at that, purple glowing eyes mistakenly full of mirth as she slowly steps towards her suffocating, almost already dead bitter rival.

"Keep going my sweet little plaything, I want to see your expression when the light in your friend's eyes finally fades to oblivion."

Karma's eyes slowly roll into the back of her head and Syndra's smirk widens as Irelia desperately tries to unclench her hands while calling her dear friend's name.

*Thunk

A small round object suddenly drops from Karma's previously clenched powerless hand, it then rolls across the dark crimson floor, dancing among the still damp splatters of blood and rich stained Ionia floorboards only to stop next to the evil vile sorcerers levitating a few feet off the ground.

Syndra pauses for a second, curious lilac orbs suddenly drawn to the small blinking device. And then Syndra's entire world is filled with intense hues of red and the room seems to wrap around the pale cursing sovereign.

 **Come with me** **,** **The time is right** **,  
** **There's no better team** **.  
** **Arm in arm we'll win the fight** **!  
** **It's always been our dream** **!**

"That's cheeeating!"

Sivir smirks in response, a dark lithe arm lazily wrapping around the intricate armored shoulder blades of the one and only gold-clad chicken emperor of Shurima.

"Is it really, now? No one ever said that I can't duel you with a Leagueamon that is capable of creating an almost infinite army of sand soldiers, Cass. Let's just call Azir a legendary, hm? Now stop wasting my time and pay up Cassy."

 **Leagueamon! Gotta** **catch 'em all** **!** **It's you and me** **  
** **I know it's my destiny** **,**

Hidden in the shadows of a seemingly abandoned bloodstained building a bruised dark-skinned female hand slowly reaches for a small plastic ball containing her dear childhood friend and almost would-be murderer.

The occupied Leagueball between her and the precious container practically squirming in hate.

 **Leagueamon! Oh you're my best** **friend** **  
** **In a world we must defend!**

Er (Running out of ideas) Lulu suddenly rips out her mask revealing Kayle's face, as the second Lulu frantically slums her small hands inside her round plastic prison. And as Lulu number2 suddenly succumbs to her hate and madness her small purple hands suddenly shoot towards her face, angrily ripping her own mask shreds only to reveal that Lulu no2 is in fact actually Shaco.

The green Kha'Zix then tries to rip out his own mask, but actually fails since he was never actually wearing one and so Kayle has to heal his damaged face.

Long story short the good guy win and love and peace ruled this world forever after.

Also Kha'Zix is in fact an intergalactic undercover agent. Bu not even he knows this since his memory has to be frequently wiped out in order to carry out certain dangerous missions I definitely didn't just make out.

 **Leagueamon! Gotta** **catch 'em all** **!**

Galio is patiently waiting in the middle of Summoner's Rift eager to see if someone finally desires to spend some time with him. He waits and waits for minutes, days and what seems like long eternities. And actually waits until the Leagueamon madness finally settles down and everyone gets enamored with Dotamon and Hearth-i-Oh!, but no one ever actually seeks him out and so Galio remains forever alone…

Until he finally encounters Amumu that is, and the no longer lonely sad mummy just smiles at him politely before calmly resuming his way. Amumu needs to keep his last remaining Leagueballs in case he stumbles into a pretty girl like Sona or Ahri, after all.

Amumu then laughs with a perverted grin as he pictures the small revealing outfits he is going to force on his new unfortunate Leagueamon. He then uses a torn piece of moldy bandage in order to wipe his resulting nosebleed before he pause, thoughtful yellow eyes suddenly narrowing in thought.

Hadn't that weird stone-faced dude actually looked kind of familiar? The small perverted mummy abruptly wonders and then wastes a few more moments trying to pierce the foggy veil of uncertainty concerning the weird curiously familiar magical gargoyle.

"Nah" He exclaims and shrugs as he moves on, hastily making his way towards the closest strip club.

The stony-dude was probably a failed attempt at reworking Malphite, anyway.

 **A heart so true.** **Our courage will pull us through** **,  
** **You teach me and I'll teach you** **!** **Leagueamon!**

Vel'Koz hisses at the vile men, scaring the smelly savage fools away. He intently stares as they cry and scream in fright for a few more long seconds before he finally turns his head (Does Vel'Koz even have a head?) in order to steal a quick look at the scared bruised Nidalee.

The woman is speechless, the infamous Eye of the Void was supposed to be an evil, vile thing and yet here he was doing his best to protect her. A soft purple tentacle slowly extends towards the still downed woman, and it is only with a miniature amount of hesitation when Nidalee slowly reaches out and takes it, letting Vel'Koz gently lift her from the hard pavement floor until her feet touch the ground.

The two of them then stare as each other, Nidalee with barely concealed shock and fear and Vel'Koz with silent ashamed understanding. The Eye of the Void has done some terrible things you see when he was still new to this world called Varolan. Terrible, despicable deeds that welled from his unfathomable cursed ignorance of Valoran's secret culture.

But those shameful days were certainly long gone you see as Vel'Koz finally knew all about the way of how things worked and what was supposed to be a gentleman's mission.

That frail little creature currently standing before him for example, practically dressed in nothing but torn furs and cheap rags wasn't supposed to be perceived as an ordinary human being for example.

Oh no, the thing before him was much, much more precious than those ungracious creatures. It was a part of a currently endangered species called a Waifu and Vel'Koz was hell-bent on protecting it, even if that meant giving up his eye!

 **Gotta catch 'em all!**

Er… Something… Something… Dr. Mundo is currently trying to stuff Anivia's head inside a malfunctioning broken Leagueball. Yep that does it for now.

 **Gotta catch 'em all!**

Tristana is trying to bath her newly acquired Rek'Sai, tirelessly chasing the obviously annoyed void-Queen. The two of them are frantically dashing through magically appearing brick walls or lunging into the enormous voildling's purple swirling tunnels.

And as the desperate struggle to drag Rek'Sai into her tiny bathtub soon becomes Tristana's lifelong ambition the scowling yordle suddenly brings out its gun and loads it with shampoo, soap, frigid clean water and random beauty products.

 _But_ **,** Rek'Sai instantly notices this alarming action and so suddenly runs out of Tristana's relatively small house, crosses the curiously empty street and then barges face first into the neighboring yordle orphanage.

The camera then zooms out, a few children are screaming in fright, a fire flares on the roof and the small building suddenly shakes and rocks as Rek'Sai tries to escape her miniature trainer's wrath and the match hated bath-time.

A stern looking Tristana then slowly walks towards the burning orphanage, trusty weapon in hand and steel brown eyes intently focused on the old burning building.

"I am definitely going to bath you Cuddles even if that means I have to crawl through the entire Shadow Isles and bath you in Mordekaiser's tears in order to accomplice it!"

 **Leagueamon!**

Every character is lining up for the group photo. Jinx is blushing profusely while sitting on LeBlanc's lap, Shaco is still trapped inside his plastic Leagueball and Kayle is just smiling politely. Kha'Zix is finally back to being purple, Lulu is wondering why Kayle is wearing her second dress and Darius is currently trying to strangle his brother.

Lee Sin is missing as he is frantically roaming the ruined capital of Ionia, desperately searching for his lost brave companions, while Kennen, Miss Fortune and Wukong are currently playing poker with Twisted Fate.

Syndra is actually here, still glaring at her trainer's back as Karma and Irelia happily pose for the picture. No one really remembered to call Galio and if anyone really cared enough to ask for his absence they certain lose their tongues after suddenly laid their eyes on Amumu's beautiful harem.

Cassiopeia is still trying to defeat Sivir and Azir, slowly but surely driving her renowned family's bank accounts in the red while Katarina blissfully unaware of that little fact is happily flirting with Garen.

Any assassination attempts against Katarina's life made by Garen's ridiculously overly attached little sister has yet to end in nothing, but complete failure.

Braum never actually found a decent adc.

Vel'Koz and Nidalee are happily married, eagerly awaiting their cute little voidlings. Rengar is envious.

Willump was one day captured by Malzahar and Nunu vowed to get him back, he is still training in the Kumungu jungle, fighting with giant lions while trying to get stronger like almost every Shounen character.

Yasuo was shot by Nami when the kind support finally had enough of him blocking her ultimates all the while spamming his laughter emote and level 9 mastery. The rude samurai did however somehow manage to survive the ordeal and was peacefully walking down the street when he suddenly encountered a walking fish that was wielding a fish. Then said fish mercilessly proceeded to gut him like a fish while using said fish and then fed him to his other giant fish for breakfast before shoving dirt and then igniting his katana!

(Please take a short break the author is currently taking long deep breaths and trying to calm down.)

Talon became an underwear model, settled down with Ashe and actually became the perfect daddy-figure.

Soraka received an argent request to heal Yasuo one day, but instantly grabbed a random rock -Soraka never actually realized it by the rock she chose to pick was in reality Malphite. But Caitlyn definitely did notice, and started stealthily peeking at the weak-looking polite support for a few days after that incident.) smashed her pager to pieces and then proceeded to set it on fire. Although she made sure to ulty and spam unhappy faces when Yasuo finally left his final breath just to avoid getting reported.

Annie actually adopted Riven when she noticed that the angsty swordswoman was so poor that she didn't actually have the gold to buy a new blade.

Udyr is still in the jungle murdering wolves and stealing their pelts while happily preaching about controlling the beast and finding inner balance.

Vi finds being owned by Caitlyn kinky. She still never obeys Caitlyn's orders, leaves the dirty plates on the sink and licks the Sheriff's deodorant whenever the smart workaholic brunette isn't looking.

Although there were still times when Graves craved his beloved cigar, he soon realized that material possessions weighted him down and chained him into a dull boring life full of meaningless physical objects and yellow metal coins. He then decided to shave his head and became a monk, following Lee Sin's path into a life of serenity and discipline.

…

What's an Urgot.

 _The End_

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own or claim to own Pokemon as a franchise, League of legend or Pokemon's catchy theme song, lyrics and so on. And I certainly don't make any money from using the song's lyrics in this fanfiction.  
**


	11. Yordle of Vengeance

"No"

"I said give me the damn money, bitch! You really don't want to test my patience!" The short, armed yordle bellowed in anger, its red furry face barely concealed behind a black piece of cloth and small greedy eyes dangerously glinting in the darkness, much like the sharp barbed piece of steel so tightly clenched between its muddy, excitedly twitching fingers.

"Tsk ok, ok, I got it. Just calm down kid, we really wouldn't want you to accidentally injure yourself with that sharp pointy toothpick of yours now would we?" Katarina growls in response, grudgingly shoving her elegant purse towards this pathetic excuse for a man currently standing before her.

The yordle growls at her snappy remark, but otherwise ignores her and the Noxian assassin can only scowl in disgust when her calm emerald orbs suddenly spot the numerous shiny pieces of her gold so carelessly spilling all over the short red furry thief's dirty, mud-smeared, clumsy fingers. The nauseating rat of a being practically dancing in joy after eyeing its prize.

"Kisisisisisi" The short male yordle's ridiculously disturbing laughter and joyous sounds of self-applause finally manage to escape the small petty thief's tiny throat and abruptly leak into the otherwise peaceful, cold winter night. The very sickening notion of its unpleasant hue somehow making even Katarina, a coldblooded murderer starting to feel uncomfortable.

And even though the usual Katarina would have undoubtedly already killed the small furry bastard and hidden its corpse the redhead assassin can only just grit her teeth and wait for this embarrassing ordeal to be over with right now. She does however keep mentally chastising herself for so thoughtlessly leaving the relative safety of her home without the reassuring warmth of cold steel nesting inside her palms and the gentle glimmer of her beloved razor-sharp daggers illuminating the dark black veil of this damn smelly alleyway.

And yet even though what felt like Katarina's whole inner being was currently screaming at her to violently beat, throttle or downright mutilate the damn furry brat and then eat its liver the fiery redhead could only sigh and wait in silence, angrily frowning at the big red rat all the while inwardly cursing her dear sister's _ingenious_ plans and frightening Ionian concepts.

Just how was she supposed to know that Cassy would one day wake up and just suddenly decide to get rid of every single sharp pointy tool and potentially lethal weapon in their entire household?

She couldn't have known of course. No one could have seen that coming and much less so Katarina, resident hothead and narrow-minded assassin. The arrogant redhead had never even dreamed of such a blatant display of madness and stupidity before that _terrible_ incident and so Talon and her had abruptly got up one day only to find themselves in the process of mourning the loss of their entire lifelong collections of knives, daggers, shurikens, swords and deadly projectiles of all kinds and sizes.

And although Talon and Kat had silently vowed to themselves to swiftly reclaim their orphaned tools of death, the fiery redhead assassin couldn't help but still burst into tears whenever a teddy bear or Staby were ever mentioned. Staby, her beloved cute armored, blade-wielding teddy bear! Just what kind of cruel monster was actually evil enough to so heartlessly kick Staby out of his former home and secretly dump him in the garbage?!

And so all of that terrible heartache and shed tears, all of that aching pain and soul-wrenching agony that flooded her very being and drowned her heart. All of those poor orphaned knives left to gather rust, cursed to remain unused and unbloodied... Everybody (not really) seemed to be suffering as a result of Cassiopeia's disturbing interest in the newest brainless Ionian trends and the young heiress' unfortunate discovery of Shen Shui! And why in Teemo's home were her chambers supposed to be painted blue of all things? what the hell was wrong with red, scarlet, ruby and crimson? This wasn't Demacia for fuck's sake!

Tsk, and Kat had always thought that Talon was supposed to be the dumbest kid in the family. Oh how far the once proud house of Du Couteau had fallen…

Katarina is currently grinding her teeth and the yordle is still all smiles and laughs, happily giggling behind its black elastic mask all the while greedily staring at the round pieces of gold as if these mere mundane golden discs of precious metal are magical droplets of blessed dew, capable of granting him immortality.

Katarina just loudly snorts at the thought. She can't really refrain from showing her justified disdain for this pitiful furry man, and rightfully so after witnessing such a blatant display of glee and greed over what she herself considered _mere pocket-money_. She then glances towards the suddenly silent and obviously vexed yordle mugger and finally notices how the short man's red furry visage has practically melted into an angry mask of silent dark fury.

The yordle's rising blade abruptly glints under the unnatural yellowish faded street light and Katarina instantly takes a step back, palms hurriedly raising up in what most people would likely perceive as a nonthreatening, soothing gesture.

But the small dirty red-furred yordle just smiles at the redhead's placating attempts and only resumes closing the distance, taking small measured steps towards the now hesitant and currently weaponless infamous Noxian assassin.

"You wanna say something lass? You think that this is funny?!"

The obviously reluctant assassin just shakes her head in response, murmurs a gritted reply and then instantly takes another step back as the crooked grey blade on the small man's hand leisurely inches closer.

 **Vrrrrm**

The thunderous sound abruptly permeating the cold night's air is somehow equally deafening, extremely low and totally unexpected, suddenly making both victim and assailant nervously jump in response and then stiffen in barely concealed fright.

…

Silence, the dark smelly alleyways are empty, the streets are abandoned and the yellowish hue of the nearest street light is currently buzzing and flickering ominously like a dying man's fading heartbeat. The two of them just wait in silence for a couple of seconds, a few precious, tension-filled moments where they are trying to pretend that everything is fine, there is nothing lurking in the dark veil of black cloth wrapped around their street lamp and no monsters crawling in the swirling shadows . A couple of minutes seem to tick by before both of them manage to gather their wits and turn around in order to gaze towards the black peerless night and the still echoing, dying mechanical roar.

Two startled pairs of eyes frantically darting between overflowing rubbish bins and inky black shadows while searching for the source of the sound before another hellish growl almost tears their hearts asunder.

 **Vrrrrm**

Both yordle and human stiffen again, narrowed eyes frantically darting between the still empty streets and abandoned alleyways desperately trying to identify this eerie roar of monstrous ignition.

 **VRRRrrrm**

Another mechanical roar, this one somewhat louder and definitely more ominous than the previous ones abruptly pierces the veil of darkness causing sparkling tiny embers to practically dance in the guts of the cold empty street right beside their alley. Faint yellow hues briefly flaring into existence, silently dancing into the night's black canvas before instantly disappearing, carefully hidden under a new fresh coating of inky black paint.

The clanking echo of reanimated hextech machinery and booming exhausts already whispering a paean of anger, pain, death, freshly-spilled betrayer's blood and fear.

"Who's there?!" The yordle shouts towards the black inky tar, scared and unnerved out of its mind. Its small armed hand frantically lashing out against the thick black shadows as if trying to scrape the old dark paint off the night's cool stale air, its previous victim completely forgotten for the time being and so Katarina stealthily shunpos away from the ominous roars of the mechanical beast and the red-furred thief and silently fades into the night.

 **V-vv-clank-Vvvrm-clank**

The clanking this time is soft and almost seductive, leading the baffled and unfortunately curious thief further into the dark cold night's shade-filled corners, his trembling bladed arm still hesitantly reaching… searching…. scratching inside the coat of ebony dark tar and thick fog of un-light as the previously protective glow of the old hextechl street-lamp suddenly flickers once, twice and then goes out.

 **VRRRM…**

"Gah!"

 **VRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!**

An explosion of light, hellfire and cinders suddenly blinds the short furry mugger, his small beady bloodshot eyes desperately blinking in quick rapid succession even as his crooked iron talon frantically slashes at the air right in front of the flickering yellows. Foul curses and death threats tirelessly spilling out of the short panicked man's lips before his small beady eyes finally clear enough for him to focus on the frightening spectacle before him.

A burning yordle, its whole body shrouded in flames, face and all bathed in yellowish flickering hell-light, its ridiculously long white moustache already covered in smoldering yellow tongues of semi-liquid light and heat and yet somehow still there, although the rest of its old crinkled face has long since melted. Painfully peeled away due to the radiant smoldering tongues of hellfire consuming the devilish ghost rider's whole blazing figure.

A smiling skull and a pair of old cracked and yet still recognizable antique smoking aviator goggles the only barely distinguishable feature on this eerie burning man's pale sizzling visage other than the deathly confident smirk adorning the currently fleshless man's, ivory bony face.

The thief blinks and then cries out in fear after witnessing all of that, wide scared eyes slowly descending, taking in the sight of the ghost rider's blazing vehicle. The smoldering airplane, the infernal hellfire siphoning through the still roaring machine of death and vengeance. The half-melted and almost liquefied bombs and ammunition carefully attached on the vehicle's smoking blackened wings… The red-hot and yet somehow still ominously spinning gatling gun leaking dark smoke, embers and red liquidified, obviously boiling metal.

The trembling yordle swallows as it inspects all of those grim and yet utterly fascinating details and then whimpers, still frozen in shock as small beady orbs slowly rise, taking in the sight of the silent ghostly rider.

Hellfire and cinders, a burning man perched inside a hellish airplane, ivory flame-encased fingers tightly wrapped around a long red-hot iron chain-whip rapidly slicing through the air as the currently sizzling weapon suddenly arches and plunges forward heading straight for the short quivering yordle thief's red furry face. And even though the vile greedy yordle can almost already feel the searing heat of the chain-whip rapidly spreading through its red dirty fur and can already imagine those hellish yellow flames engulfing it. Even though the yordle-man can already guess that resistance is futile and that he is probably going to be dead before a single word manages to leave his lying mouth, this crooked hardened criminal certainly knows how to fool the righteous men and gain the favor of the judges.

 _I want to see my lawyer!_ The treacherous yordle tries to yell but catches a chain on the lips the moment its lying mouth opens.

* * *

 **The idea behind the story: I happened to watch some _Agents of shield_ trailers with Ghost Rider and that reminded me of how much I liked Ghost Rider's theme. I wanted to turn a League champion into Ghost Rider, Hecarim, Brand and Thresh are cool but I wanted a more humanoid character to show the transformation and play with the atmosphere. Vi would make an awesome Rider for a secret demon-vigilante story, the theme suits her and I can actually picture her as Ghost, dressed in leather and fighting crime before meeting Caitlyn, but I wasn't really looking for a deep long story with evolving characters. Nunu was another possible candidate for the story since Ghost Rider's vehicle gets set on fire, I can imagine Nunu turning all serious and jumping on top of the yeti before riding into the night. And then I stumbled into Corki and realized that there was something really intriguing about a cursedCorki driving a burning airplane and wielding a chain while shooting hellfire out of his gatling gun. And so I wrote this story. **

**PS. There might me some random text mixed almong the sentences because of an error, I will check later.  
**


	12. A RivenxIrelia story prologue

**I decided to start cleaning up some older files and story ideas that have been collecting _dust_ in my hard drive. This one was supposed to be a prologue about a RivenxIrelia story (Let the yuri flow through you). Feel free to use the prompt in a story.  
**

* * *

Her comrades are dying, sparks of flame and darkness incinerating their very flesh, their bodies rotting, boiling, breaking down to atoms in an instant like poor quality ragdolls carelessly tossed into a whole bathtub's worth of acid. The smell of decay hits her nostrils and Riven instantly doubles over and empties the contents of her stomach right next to her screaming friends and terrified Ionians. Her eyes are burning, hopeless tears silently cascading down her bloodied cheeks as the toxic maelstrom raging around her squad seems to devour friend and foe alike. Their dying screams filling the poisonous air like a concert of gutted pigs forcefully being led to the slaughterhouse.

The soldiers around her are wailing, they try to breathe, filing their lungs with boiling acid and toxic fumes as their broken swords slowly slide out of their charred fingers and another barrage of chemical bombs abruptly hits the ground.

River starts running at this point, stumbling among rapidly dissolving spears and shredded Noxian flags, her legs slipping and sinking, drowning in crimson mud. The pleas of the dying swarming her head until she can't even hear her own screams as the venomous mist shrouds the entire valley in mere seconds.

But the Noxian soldier has no other choice but to press on, marching in the blood of her dear friends and comrades.

000000000000

It is almost nightfall when she spots them. Two ghastly men dressed in Ionian armor stumbling and coughing as they are attempting to carry another injured soldier safely wrapped in an old torn Ionian flag. Riven cautiously approaches them, too tired and out of breath to even attempt outrunning them before they inevitably decide to give chase to her. Luckily for her the soldiers are gravely injured and probably on death's door, covered almost entirely in deep still-bleeding cuts and chemical burns. The two of them are also obviously completely blind.

One of the soldiers must have heard her approaching because he abruptly turns towards her at the very next moment and the white-haired swordswoman suddenly stiffens, but the dying man merely tries to ask her something in a wet desperate tone before he abruptly starts to choke and his frantic questions instantly gets lost into a fit of coughing.

Riven remains silent for a second or two, as the Ionian soldier tries to voice his question again and then sinks into the ground, his violent coughing turning into a deathly croak. Riven is about to walk away from them when the other Ionian soldier slowly unwraps the flag. There is a young woman hidden beneath the stained fabric, clad in ceremonial Ionian armor, her black as raven wings hair bloodied and dirty, covered in soot. The man then collapses mirroring his friend, he tries to repeat his request in broken Noxian and then dies in less than a heartbeat.

Riven just stares at him, the soldier's white milky eyes silently staring at her as if gazing into her soul, before her tired irritated eyes slowly glance towards the wounded woman.

…

She starts dragging the flag.

000000000000000

It is only after midnight that Irelia finally regains her consciousness, she tries to move around only to stop after hissing in pain. A woman bearing the Noxian crest on her chest kneels beside her and offers her a flask of water. She recognizes her even though her eyesight is blurry and dim.

She is Riven, the killer from Noxus, the one that recently cut a path among their ranks drenching her giant runic blade in the blood of her countrymen. She instantly refuses the drink and spits in the soldier's face and Riven just sighs and then sits under a crooked withering tree. Irelia keeps sending her death glares until the accumulating exhaustion of the war finally sets over and Irelia falls asleep before her body even kisses the ground.

…

Irelia doesn't know what has woken her up. The two of them are resting inside the hollow of a tree, her head carefully placed on top of the Noxian's lap. The Captain is feeling weak, the Zaunite poison already seemingly taking its toll on her and even Riven doesn't seem to be doing much better either. The Ionian blinks, her eyes searching for any signs of danger outside their questionable shelter.

She can actually hear the Noxian butcher breathing slowly in her sleep, the presence of the bloodied warrior somehow making her calm down much to the Ionian commander's distaste. There are few more dreadful things lurking among those ancient withering trees after all that are more dangerous than the blade of her captor and savior. But it takes less than another lazy blink for Irelia to instantly reconsider that thought as she suddenly comes face to face with a beast that seems to have crawled straight out of a child's nightmare.

It is a wolf in the body of a man, his sharp ivory canines permanently coated in saliva, blood is slowly dripping out of the wolf-demon's mouth and there is grey fur covering the majority of the filthy beast's flesh. The marred patches of fur under its angled chin already stained with dry blood, its extended hand silently hovering so close to the woman's face that Irelia can even make out the golden leafs coating the beast's razor-sharp claws.

Irelia tries to scream, but the only thing that comes out of her mouth is less than a warrior's challenging roar and more of a whimper, as she frantically tries to crawl away and only succeeds into ramming the back of her head against Riven's stomach. The Noxian warrior barely grunts as Irelia desperately tries to put more space between herself and the beastman's claws.

The wolfman smiles at her, his hand still arching, moving ever so slowly while trying to reach her face. The Ionian shudders, she tries to scream again, but her voice dies an ugly death inside her dry throat and the bloodied grasp of the wolf is even closer now, mere inches away from her, almost able to touch her face. The golden claws start descending, lunging towards the Captain's eyes and Irelia can only watch frozen in terror.

"Leave"

A clear voice, rough and yet so frighteningly calm rings into the night as an injured hand suddenly darts out of the rotted tree hole and manages to grab the werewolf's forearm forcefully holding it in place mere inches away from the feverish Ionian woman's eyebrow.

Irelia sighs, the wolfman snarls, but against all odds the Noxian killer still manages to hold the beastman's crimson gaze.

"Leave this forest and never come back here Warwick, that's your final warning."

The wolfman snarls, glares at them, but leaves as if reluctant to start a fight against both the injured Noxian commander and the poisoned hero of Ionia. The beast glares at them one final time and then swiftly vanishes, dashing through the night and trees, the wolfman disappears in seconds. Riven then sighs and lowers her head. Irelia stays silent, it is pathetic really but she still can't stop shaking, the image of the horribly mutated man colliding with the teachings of inner peace and tranquility taught in the traditional mystical temples and dojos of Ionia.

"He was a man once, you know. A renowned Zaunite apothecary hell-bent on capturing all sorts of rare beasts and magical creatures. Tracking them, capturing them and then mercilessly dissecting them. Selling the poor creatures' body parts to all kinds of shady scientists, peculiar collectors and eccentric witch doctors."

Irelia listens, dully noting that her traitor of a voice has suddenly returned now that the human beast has long since fled into the night. Well, one of the human beasts at least, the other one is actually still here and even attempts talking to her…

"What happened to him?"

"He snapped, he drank an elixir devised by the same abominable madman that bombed our armies, it was supposed to grant him immense strength and inhuman speed and help him track his prey even faster. And so it did in a way, it worked like a charm. Warwick became stronger, alright, but his mind, his human self started fading giving way to the beast's feral instincts. Ans so now he roams between the borders of Noxus and Ionia, stalking, searching for a creature rare enough to trade for the antidote before his human reasoning completely fades away and his mind is lost forever."

Both of them remain silent for a while and curiously enough Irelia is the first one to break the tense silence.

"What happened on the battlefield? I remember flanking a Noxian unit and then... nothing, just screams and death. And blood, so much blood and yelling…"

Riven shivers

"It was a massacre, both armies were bombarded by the Zaunites, blown up to smithereens they were, erased from the Valley in an instant."

That draws the Ionian's attention, she snaps her head to meet the hardened warrior's distant gaze.

"Both armies?"

Riven can only nod, the screams of the dead still roaring inside her head and the Noxian invader somehow doubts the voices are ever going to leave her alone.

0000000000000

There is dust on her lips and acid running through her veins. Irelia's vision is blurry as Riven slowly carries her through the forest. The Noxian swordswoman is beyond exhausted at this point, gathering all her strength to just continue putting one foot in front of the other and keep dragging them across the ancient trees. Her feverish face drenched in sweat and her tired limbs both trembling and heavy.

The poison is killing them, Singed's noxious concoctions are pumping inside their injured bodies, hitting their insides like giant war hammers. Irelia is the first one to collapse, her frail body silently collapsing on the ground. Riven pulls her up, wrapping her arms around her frame she keeps walking aimlessly, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

And soon enough Riven is also rushing to meet the dark soil, she manages to spin around in mid-air cushioning the Ionian's fall as the black-haired swordswoman lowly grunts in pain.

Riven merely glances at her, she doesn't even know why she keeps bothering dragging the Ionian woman around with her as both of them are certainly going to die before they even catch the next sunrise. Is it because she is scared of dying alone, or perhaps she hesitates to abandon someone to that chemical nightmare constructed by the madness of Singed? She doesn't really know the answer to that, but even a hardened war veteran like her acknowledges that allowing her nemesis to perish in that twisted depiction of hell would be an insult to both hers and Irelia's honor.

And maybe… just maybe Riven has seen enough death recently to dissuade her from ever taking a human life again, even if it so happens to belong to one of her bitter enemies'.

Night is falling soon, a wolf howls in the distance. Irelia coughs violently, splattering even more blood all over the wounded Noxian's already bloodstained military uniform.

"What now?"

Riven wraps her arms around the poisoned woman, there are red dots dancing in front of her eyes and while she may not be able to hear them, she can certainly feel the damned wolf pack slowly closing in. Peeking at them from between rocks and roots and the vast forest's rich plant life.

"We pray that the poison inside our bodies tastes as bad as it feels, bad enough for the wolves to lose interest in us and leave us alone."

"Noxians…"

...

And surprisingly enough it does, the wolves scatter after taking a few tentative bites out of the two downed warriors, mainly Riven it seems as the Noxian swordswoman attempts to keep the Ionian soldier safe in her arms, covering Irelia's immensely weakened body with her very own bulkier one. The Ionian might have even mumbled something resembling a thanks between their grunts before she finally lost consciousness.

Riven lays still listening to Irelia's strained breathing, observing the Ionian thrusting and turning in her sleep. Who would have thought that the famous Captain of the Ionian Guard would have had such terrible sleeping manners? Not that it really matters, or that the white-haired swordswoman would ever be able to share her surprising findings as the two of them will probably be dead by the morning if things continue like this.

Heh, Riven never would have thought that she would one day be dying laying underneath an unconscious Ionian general, but there were far worse ways to go after all… like dying in the midst of a chemical barrage for example.

Riven sighs, but stills as her ears suddenly detect the sounds of yelling and hurried footsteps and it isn't long before she sees the distant lights of torches and hears the loud shouts in agitated Ionian common tongue scouring the forest for something important.

She lays still, as the mob is obviously searching for something among the bushes and trees mere meters away from her and the sleeping Ionian, leaves and branches crunching underneath the search party's feet as they carefully part tree branches and inspect vibrant foliages. What are all these people even doing here? Riven wonders as she suddenly feels Irelia slowly stirring inside her arms.

Irelia, but of course. She is an Ionian hero, a general's daughter and captain of the Ionian guard, there is no way her people are going to abandon her. Not like her own… Not like Darius, Swain and Noxus.

Irelia is fully awake now, she hears the voices of her countrymen and manages to lift her head. She is trembling from the exhaustion, her face's color a sickly green, she eyes Riven and then opens her mouth in order to alert her countrymen and the Noxian invader can only hold her breath as the cracked lips of Irelia part and the Captain's voice is sure to follow.

She is dead, she is without a doubt dead if the Ionians get their hands on her and yet the snow-haired swordswoman doesn't have the strength to stand on her feet or even attempt to run away. But fortunately for the Noxian she doesn't have to since Irelia's voice dies inside her throat before it even begins escaping it, the only sound coming out of the poisoned Captain's lips too low to even compete with the faintest whisper.

The Ionian woman growls, she licks her dry lips and then tries again only to fail miserably. Not a sound, nor muffled scream, not even a whispered vowel actually manages to escape the Ionian's lips and Irelia has no other choice but to silently slump in defeat as her head lifelessly drops back on top of the Noxian's torso. Her sorrowful emerald orbs still desperately locked on the distant torches slowly moving farther and farther away from them as the search party finally decides to try their luck on another part of the shadowy forest.

The weakened Ionian is trembling now, sweat beads rapidly forming against her feverish forehead, she licks her lips and tries to shout again, her pale cheek unwittingly pressing against Riven's dirty breastplate. There is a muffled croak that makes her cough, but the lights have already almost disappeared by now.

The Noxian just stares at her dying nemesis for a moment and then glances at the moon shining brightly above the inky sky, she sighs. Riven is already kind of dead anyway.

She has no job or home to go back to and there are at least two countries that would love nothing more than to put her severed head on a pike. She doesn't have any living friends or family, most of them had died in the valley of death, her world has just shattered and her body is flooding with poison., but her nemesis may still have a place to return. A family to get back to, and Riven can't help but wonder if she is selfish enough to deny Irelia's loved ones that relief just so she won't have to die alone.

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock, the Noxian death wagon is already traveling home, her dog tag already riding amongst her brethrens. She can at least spare the Captain's life or let them bring back the Ionian's corpse. Irelia is a strong brave warrior fighting with honor after all, the Ionian hero deserves to at least be buried among her friends instead of becoming food for the wolves and vultures.

Sigh, Katarina would be laughing her ass off if only she could see her right now.

Filling her lungs with air feels like breathing in acid. Painful, unpleasant, the two words she would most likely chose to describe her life and probably her ending too if it goes as bad as she can imagine. Two deep breaths and her cracked lips open, Irelia is already looking at her as if she is some kind of crazy maniac juggling with bombs inside a magical construction and Riven can't really blame her when she is not only tasting her death but even downs the bottle and asks for seconds.

Here lies Riven, betrayed by all except from her conscience may she die with pride and honor.

"WE ARE RIGHT HERE!"

Her voice breaks the silence, shattering it like a gunshot, the torches appear again, footsteps are rushing to meet them. Irelia is observing her, her face frozen in awe and shock and Riven has to narrow and almost close her eyes when the vibrant flames dancing around the torch suddenly illuminate her dirty face. Someone drags Irelia away from her and she can hear people conversing in quick Ionian, there is also some kind of strange green light.

She has to close her eyes at some point. And then someone kicks her in the stomach and her body glides across the leaves and scarred earth like a ragdoll. More kicks and yelling, so much yelling in angry Ionian, but Riven can't really blame them their soldiers would've probably done the same thing if they were the ones to find them.

A final kick to the head and Riven almost blacks out, more yelling, a feminine voice rising among the others, a soldier grudgingly decides to stomp away all the while cursing the downed Noxian.

Riven is almost unconscious by now and she can barely see through the dirt and blood obscuring her eyesight. She somehow manages to perceive a pale purple woman with a horn kneeling right beside her, her touch southing and gentle, the Ionian checks the wounds on her hands, face and legs, her amber-colored eyes filled with nothing but compassion.

She utters a few words and then there is a smudge of green light and Riven promptly passes out as her world is drowned in merciful darkness.


	13. Embers

Clanks and screeches, the siren's repetitive song and the irritating smell of burned tires. The atmosphere inside the fire truck was as solemn as one could have possibly guessed in such a serious situation, the three scrunched up figures dressed in their respective black and yellow uniforms tense and surprisingly quiet, trying to focus on their wise leader's helpful instructions.

"Secluded building, two floors, there are multiple points of entrance and while there were no reports of any civilians trapped inside the building's walls we will still have to check and make sure that everyone managed to get out. We are going to be there in a few minutes, so be ready to act when we do. Any questions?"

Caitlyn awaits for her subordinates' response, her gaze pinned on their silent nervous forms, the grim expression painting the brunette's face both expectant and extremely serious. But there is no response. Tristana is busy playing with her gas mask while Sion is silently glaring menacingly at his shiny fire axe and Gnar is trying to eat his own knuckles. The brunette firefighter can only sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance.

The tires screech burning dark smelly marks all over the blackened concrete and the siren of the vehicle instantly dies as the fire truck abruptly halts next to the burning house, so suddenly in fact that poor distracted Tris is sent flying inside the cramped vehicle, bouncing off the immobile fire truck's walls only to be stopped a few moments later, courtesy of Sion's gigantic hands wrapping around her small vibrating body.

"Good catch, big guy!" Tristana yells at the Noxian undead firefighter headbutting the enormous man in jest, their helmets clanking in greeting.

"Sion eat little yordle."

A quick tap at the door and another person suddenly pokes their head in, their driver's neon blue hair sliding against the vehicle's floor as a grinning Jinx happily marches in and wraps a tattooed arm around her brunette leader's already slumped shoulders.

"We have arrived at the party! Come on fire lady, let's go and fan the flames!"

A roll of the eyes and a heavy sigh full of soul-crushing exhaustion and defeat produced by the visibly depressed brunette firefighter leave the young maniac puzzled to say the least as the juggernaut of the team finally opts to drop Tristana back on the ground.

The female yordle just pouts and gets up while rubbing its sore behind as Caitlyn gathers the team once more and tries to explain their next course of action. Jinx's occasional interruptions in order to share her ingenious ideas with the rest of the team and Sion's futile attempts to sharpen his bloody fire axe against his own teeth only further serving to agitate the usually composed brunette firefighter.

"Fine, I've had enough! Just go out there and put out the fire, but we are going to have a talk afterwards." The authoritative voice of the young brunette growls after a little bit as Caitlyn observes the creepily vacant expressions and the glassy eyes of her troublesome comrades. Each one lost in their own lack of thoughts until their leader's words finally settle in and the three of them happily rash to the fire.

Caitlyn groans, tired brown eyes hesitantly following the humongous silhouette of Sion that's currently waving his gigantic axe, furiously spinning the iron tool around as if hell-bent in actually hacking the fire's scorching tongues to pieces and removing the burning obstacle through sheer force and masculinity. The already disturbing image abruptly getting only worse after Tristana suddenly hops on top of the Noxian giant's head and starts cheering for him at the top of her small lungs, urging the mountain of a man to keep slamming his scorched fire axe against the foundations of the still burning building.

"Hey fire lady, I think we might be having an itty-bitty little problem."

Caitlyn scowls and then moves her head, she sends a cold glare towards the widely smirking driver that's currently holding her blue twintails under the brunette firefighter's nose, probably pretending that her braids are a moustache of sorts and Cailtyn's eyes seem to only narrow even further. Brown orbs filled with more heat than even Sion's smoking, burning hands aimed straight at the blue-haired troublemaker's shining pink pools of madness.

"Are you certain?"

Jinx smiles and nods and the smirking psycho even takes a small step back before she pointedly gestures at Gnar that has been nervously staring at the blazing building this whole time while cowering next to his agitated fearless leader. The brunette just sighs for what feels like the hundredth time that day before she leans towards the small furry man and presses a tentative hand against his stiff trembling shoulder.

"We've been through this before, Gnar. It's ok to be afraid of the heat and the fire, but you have to at least try to help your comrades once in a while."

The little yordle just stands still, its big round eyes utterly mesmerized by the fire's pulsing glow, Sion's pained screams completely escaping it. Meanwhile Tristana finally decides to abandon the ship and so the female yordle hastily dives away from the rapidly immolating juggernaut.

And while all of this is happening and everyone around her is either drooling, burning to death, or at the very least having an existential crisis, Jinx is currently laughing in glee as she watches Sion trying to get the angry flames in a chokehold.

Caitlyn ignores the young maniac for the most part. The bleu-haired psycho might be a thorn in her side and have a bizarre sense of humor, but she is a damn good driver.

"Gnar? Are you listening to me? Just nod your head if you are going to help your comrades."

But the male yordle simply remains stock still, silently observing the glowing tongues performing their beautiful, mesmerizing dance, their bright yellow heads swaying hypnotically back and forth before quickly resuming their astonishing mystical beckoning, the happy lights seemingly waving at him… as they slowly devour his gigantic and admittedly kind of rude, undead teammate.

"Leave it to me, fire lady. Be a man, Gnar!"

A few moments later and Caitlyn's confusion abruptly gives way to horror as her blue-haired comrade suddenly walks up to Gnar and slaps the poor male yordle right in the face.

The yordle freezes for a moment and then roars in anger, its small furry body abruptly increasing in size, its uniform starting to shred as the powerful muscles of its new form start to spill forth right before the very eyes of the two shocked firefighters.

"She did it!" Yell's the still smiling maniac as she points at the stunned brunette before making a run for it, darting towards the blazing inferno that used to be the building they were supposed to evacuate and secure, and it isn't even a second later that Caitlyn hurriedly follows the giggling lunatic.

And it is just like that, with a tiny fire axe clenched in his grasp and a giant fire truck held against his humongous right shoulder that Gnar finally follows his team, fearlessly diving into the angry flames as the monstrous yordle snarls and roars in the familiar tune of the blue and red sirens approaching them.

Meanwhile a few blocks away from the team of brave firefighters a tall cloaked figure gazes at the curious spectacle taking place among the glowing yellow tongues. The figure snorts, tosses the empty matchbox near the side of the road and starts walking away from the flickering lights of the fire, a low scratchy murmur following the vanishing form as a couple of emergency vehicles hastily pass it by.

"She is such a misfit, always ready to brawl…"

* * *

 **Notes: Why isn't there a firefighter Sion skin? The concept is perfect. Gnar could be funny too, being scared of fire and going mega Gnar whenever approaching the flames. I like Jinx as the suicidal driver of the team, driving the vehicle through flames and obstacles. Tristana is meh, but the skin is cool and so she has a place in the team, while the brains of the team can't be other than Caitlyn. Vi could be the antihero as a plot twist since Jinx joined the good side, maybe the firefighters of Piltover didn't help Vi because she was poor and Vi got her facial scar-tattoo in a fire and wants revenge so she is burning Piltover.**


	14. Farmer Irelia and the carrot thief

Being rendered practically immortal due to Soraka's celestial magic after being hit by a particularly nasty Noxian curse, Irelia had witnessed a lot of things during her admittedly long lifetime, some good and some bad and some spectacularly horrendous and terrible. The rise of her beautiful nation for example and then the bloody Invasion of Ionia, the discovery of the mysterious Vastayan folk suddenly coming out of the woodwork and Ionia's fragile alliances with Demacia and Piltover. And yet after witnessing all of those dreadful and remarkable events and the futile struggles of man and even the various peace treaties with both Zaun and the soulless Noxians, the once proud Captain of the Ionian guard had long since grown tired of conflicts and meaningless bloodshed, and so Irelia one day decided to exchange her floating blades for a collection of farming tools before retiring to pursue the honest and more serene life of a farmer.

Qqqq

The golden sun is slyly peeking from behind the mountaintops, a few shy rays of sunlight slowly spilling out of the wet foliages as the black sky slowly turns from black to blue before transitioning to a clearer bluish white. Irelia grumbles as she spots the blue and white hues, green blurry eyes slowly blinking and scrunching shut only to open once again as the immortal retired warrior sluggishly gets up and puts on her faded new attire. The fleeting glow of an oil lamp and the crowing of a few roosters in their pen the only form of companionship the once great warrior now experiences as Irelia silently puts on an old clean shirt and a pair of jeans before she grabs her muddy boots from next to the dusty bed stand.

Irelia glances one last time towards the foggy white and blue sky, she then makes a beeline for the kitchen and her favorite stool and a much needed pot of hot steaming coffee.

Qqqq

It isn't until much, much later that the black-haired farmer finally comes across her ruined crops, emerald eyes only glancing at the remains of the vegetables and fruits before narrowing dangerously. Two jade-colored orbs slowly following the small trail of crushed leaves and half-eaten fruits and carrots as the edible trail coils and turns, leading somewhere outside of the Ionian ex-Captain's property. Irelia's expression darkens as she pauses to grab a hoe from the tool shed and then stalks after the trail left behind by the ravenous crop thief with murder in her eyes.

Qqqq

The Ionian farmer's smoldering hard glare instantly softens when she finally spots the heinous crop thief. The child is one of the infamous Vastayan and a hybrid of human and bunny at that as it seems, if Irelia has to guess just by the small grey bunny ears perched on top of the orphan's snow-white messy bangs and the fluffy ball of a tail peeking out from behind the sleeping form's torn, ragged trousers. A few purple rags wrapped around the child's sleeping form and an orange belt the only other articles of clothing clinging on to the young, humanoid bunny's skinny body.

Ireilia pauses for what feels like an eternity, stormy jade-green orbs helplessly pinned on the little Vastayan thief, the small creature currently curled up into a ball and yet somehow still desperately clenching in its sleep the remnants of a half-devoured, muddy carrot.

The hoe descends as it slips from the still peeved farmer's grasp, the sound produced by the clash of earth, iron and wood more than enough to awake the slumbering kid and make it jump up in fright, the remnants of the half-munched vegetable now pointed towards two narrowed emerald orbs like some kind of sword or frail primitive weapon. Irelia doesn't even attempt to waste her time with yells and annoyed words, neither does she stop to peer at the scared red eyes that are currently brimming with tears and fear. She just marches straight at the trembling bunny-girl, grabs the poor kid by the wrist and then merely stomps back to her house and her destroyed farmland.

Qqqq

Night has once again fallen on this peaceful land. The fields are quiet, finally after long hours of hard work the farmers have returned back to their humble residences. The doors of the houses are locked shut and their windows are dark with the occasional flickering of a smothered lamplight attempting to pierce the night's black veil. The crops have been watered, the cattle are slumbering, safe in their respective pens and barns. Everything looks static, deserted and tranquil and yet there is something more than what meets the eye in this serene fertile land gifted with such rich dark-brown soil. And if anyone were to wander towards one of those quiet homes and try to take a peek inside a particular farmer's shack they might be able to spot the two curled forms sleeping peacefully next to each other, or the tiny pale child's hand silently grasping the hand of a sleeping adult that grumbles and pulls the small bunny's form even closer, wrapping sun-kissed arms around the slumbering little crop thief, embracing the young child protectively.

 _The End_

* * *

 **Notes: This one was written a few days ago while I was visiting some relatives and so I ended up in the middle of nowhere with no internet connection and a tablet with a single fighting game and a writing app I have so I can write down story ideas whenever inspiration strikes me. I had to write to keep my sanity. I just can't handle relaxing days.** **I really like the simplicity of this story, it starts with the random thought of "What if Irelia decided she had enough of fighting and war and decided to retire?" and then I went to town with it. The child is intended to be a young Vastayan Riven even though I never confirm it in the story and that leads to another interesting personal revelation I've had.**

 **We don't have to explain everything or be strictly keeping the timelines in a story. We can take a skin concept like the bunny Riven skin and turn it into Riven's first actual realization. What if Riven was a bunny Vastayan that somehow ended up in Noxus or maybe lived in Ionia among the rest of her kind until someone realized she had Noxian blood in her and her tribe exiled her after the Noxian invasion? How would that influence her character and her relationship with both Noxian and Ionian champions? What if Irelia later found and adopted Riven? Would she still become a warrior of some sorts and if yes which side would she fight for? What would happen since she will never be there to murder Yasuo's elder? Will Yasuo still somehow become the Unforgiven? And the most important question of all, did Irelia adopt the little bunny out of the kindness of her heart or is she just waiting to fatten Riven? 0_0 Just some random thoughts I had while writting this story.**


	15. Silent film script format

The scene starts inside a familiar wealthy Demacian home where a serious-looking Garen is silently reading the newspaper, his wooden rocking chair moving slowly back and forth as the camera lazily zooms out until we can finally see Lux and the rest of the Crownguard family happily eating their breakfast. There is also some kind of a low musical tune subtly playing in the background. The faint pleasant score so deeply interweaved with the ongoing black and white actors and various actions currently taking place inside the scratched grey screen that serves as a mere distraction to the occasional viewer until the camera suddenly zooms in on the inky black headlines occupying the front page of the wrinkled and stretched newspaper held in Garen's rigid hands, and the musical score rises in an abrupt and alarming crescendo. Causing the black inky letters that are already occupying the majority of the fine print to almost bloat and expand enough for them to reach the camera and block the viewer's vision as a single black headline abruptly stares right back into the spectator's admittedly curious eyes.

 **SERIAL CUDDLER STILL ON THE LOOSE!**

The screen then fades and the musical score just dies off with it as the spectator is left in complete and absolute darkness.

Qqqq

The screen is assaulted by light and shapes again, the black smudges swiftly giving way to an old Demacian vehicle as it passes by a small flock of smiling pedestrians that walk among rows of colorless trees and blooming grey flowers. The camera follows the small car for a few seconds or so before it suddenly jerks back to a gathering of girls, each one wearing a simple blue dress resembling a school uniform. Lux is laughing and gossiping among her friends, all the while Quinn and Fiora are currently chasing each other somewhere on the background. Another small shiny vehicle lazily moves away from the joyous group of girls and the faint pleasant tune briefly returns as the car passes by an unknown pedestrian, the black figure's face carefully concealed behind a crumpled and smudged, wrinkled old newspaper, only for the simple tune to suddenly peak as the newspaper momentarily lowers and the viewer is unexpectedly treated to the sight of dark crafty orbs and untamed snow-white hair. The image then slowly turns black after the camera ominously sinks into those devious inky black orbs and the crumbled headline of the lowered newspaper.

 **SERIAL CUDDLER STILL ON THE LOOSE!**

Qqqq

The new scene starts as Luxanna's lessons finally ends for the day and the students are reluctantly getting dismissed. A few silently laughing girls instantly dash for the big open doors while the more patient ones casually start walking behind their classmates and teachers, the close-up shot of a ringing bell steals just a few seconds of the viewer's attention even if the sound emitted by the visibly vibrating bell is curiously muted and absent. The frame then swiftly returns to the hasty Demacian youths hurriedly spilling out of their various classrooms.

The camera momentarily follows young Luxanna and her friends as they giggle and gossip among themselves while heading home, the dark shadow of a woman hiding behind a crumpled newspaper silently following their so silent and yet obviously noisy trail.

Qqqq

It is morning once again and Lux is playing among her friends and peers, caged inside the crowded schoolyard. A few professors can already be seen scolding Valor and Quinn, tirelessly reprimanding the usual troublemaker duo for their unbecoming behaviors as a white-haired woman wearing a simple black suit and a bowler hat casually strolls near the iron fence surrounding the schoolyard and cheerfully offers Luxanna a beautiful dark grey rose after she beckons the youngest of the Crownguards closer to the iron barrier. The strange white-haired girl merely smiles at the young Lux while sliding the grey flower between the fence's twisted iron coils that trap the blonde noblewoman inside the school's property. Lux blushes as she shyly cradles the magnificent rose accepting the fragrant grey flower and gives the strangely dressed woman a beaming smile vibrant enough to set any single heart on fire. The dark-eyed and silent pale girl then slowly reaches for the younger blonde's face and brushes a gloved thumb against the Crownguard's rosy darkening cheek as the scene once again dissolves and fades into nothing.

Qqqq

It is with such a joyous, merry musical theme that the next frame suddenly springs into life as the black and white moving slideshow abruptly barges in, showing two figures close enough to pass as one, relaxing while sitting next to each other. The two young women seemingly spending their time in relative bliss, happily holding each other's hands and they appear to be making small talk while absentmindedly feeding the deserted grey park's pure white pigeons. The young Demacian heiress is laughing in glee and the smartly dressed Noxian crook finally allows herself to sit back and wear a honest carefree smile on her lips as the blonde Crownguard sitting next to her abruptly leans in to kiss her pale cheek and Riven happily tosses more breadcrumbs towards the small army of hungry pigeons.

Qqqq

But alas the couple's happiness wasn't meant to last it seems and so the next shot is frantic and dark, two figures darting from alley to alley all the while still holding hands and the shadows of a pursuing mob spilled across their tired heels and aching ankles. The drama unfolds as both women desperately run into dead ends and attempt to knock on sealed locked doors only to once again flee with the drums of the fast paced music on their heels and the sharp stabs of the invisible merciless violins accompanying the two lovers' frantic escape into even more dark and rapidly changing, shady morbid backgrounds.

The last scene the viewer perceives showcases the dread of two panicked and trapped star-crossed lovers, trembling backs pressed flat against the dusty old brickwork of a closed clothing store as the ravenous shades of the mob surrounds the two unfortunate girls and start approaching them ominously.

Qqqq

The music is neutral, the camerawork is deliberately bad and amateurish and the lens seems to be having trouble focusing for some reason. Blurry and solemn the scene reluctantly opens in a now familiar crowded fenced schoolyard where the youngest of the Crowguard scions is sitting away from the rest of her classmates and friends. Hunched and defeated Luxanna seems to be a completely different person from the happy woman we encountered the day before, her dark-rimmed eyes lowered and still wet, her once joyous dark clear orbs now lusterless and dulled due to her torturous heartache and the seemingly endless flood of her own biter tears.

Young Luxanna stays silent like this for at least half a dozen of seconds or so, with the weight of what feels like the entire world seemingly crushing her very being until the softest of touches on the small of her back prompts a murderous glare from the crestfallen young Crownguard, glistering dark-rimmed eyes snapping towards a pale hand as Lux attempts to shoot a murderous glare towards the unknown offender. And so the last scene in this bittersweet story starts to dissolve as the smudges of white and black fade, but not before the distant and happy soundtrack of the past slowly tunes in for at least four to five seconds. The faint and happy musical tune abruptly peaks when it returns before instantly turning into a solemn and yet hopeful bittersweet melody as the wet angsty gaze of young Luxanna suddenly stumbles upon a smirking white-haired girl wearing the simple dark uniform of her school, a black bowler hat still perched on top of the ashen soft white snowflakes of the Noxian woman's hair.

 _The end  
_

* * *

 **Note: Another one of the short stories I mentioned in the previous chapter, the basic concept behind this one was to write it as a silent film and lead the reader's attention towards particular images and shots through the mentions of the camera's lens and the gneral theme of the music. It also served as another attempt to try writing a story that manages to move forward without the use of dialogues (since I am bad at them). Inspired by the imagery of silent films where not everything has to be expained as long as the characters reach a happy ending.**


	16. An old derailed Oneshot story

It is late afternoon and the sun is still high up in the sky shooting sinister golden glares towards the small army of salarymen, mad inventors and unsuspecting random colorful individuals wondering the vibrant and ever busy streets of the city of Piltover.

Ah, Piltover, the city of hextech, light and breathtaking dangerous new technologies and innovations where uniquely dressed crooks and smart renowned professors seem to somehow peacefully coexist with insane pyromaniacs and sentient giant robots along with flagrant heroes and crossbow-wielding mutated rodents. A city filled with so much history and untold, astonishing discoveries, numbers and equations, where Spray-painted lines of code and magnificent poetry are often used to decorate luxurious storefronts and universities whereas weird alchemical formulas are hurriedly scratched against the surfaces of automatic energy propelled vehicles and old brick walls. Hastily drawn by the wrinkled trembling hands of drunk, overzealous and otherwise delusional old cleaning ladies and bitter lab janitors, tortured souls patiently waiting for their own chances at fame, riches and recognition.

The noise is maddening, the streetlights are always shinning and most of the cold grey walls are usually buzzing, covered with screens, cables, lamps and even the occasional steam pipe.

And that's generally all one needs to know about the chaotic and glorious city of Piltover, this radiant gem of innovation. It is a particularly abysmal city flooding with impractical knowledge and strange impulsive individuals trying to make a name for themselves as inventors. There is hope, there is bitterness and maybe sometimes too much progress, freedom and insanity for one sole sane brunette sheriff to handle.

Because no matter how capable and dedicated Caitlyn might be, there is always some new and fresh dangerous surprise hiding within the dark sunless shadows being cast by Piltover's magnificent artificial lights.

0000

Caitlyn was walking down one of Piltover's most notorious shopping districts, her top hat carefully perched on top of her head bouncing with each proud step and her trusty mechanical rifle hanging from a leather strap wrapped around the sheriff's left shoulder. Vigilant brown eyes tirelessly darting between noisy restaurants and greedy, wide smiling shopkeepers while searching for any signs of possible wrongdoers and illicit activity, but fortunately enough nothing wrong seemed to be happening so far in that particular noisy district of Piltover.

A fat yordle dressed as a lab assistant is sweating profusely, moaning and cursing under its breath while trying to carry a cardboard box full of vials, books and random metallic odds and ends, its round furry face already turning red from the exertion. A young pair of newlyweds is currently browsing through the goods of a Piltovian jewelry store located next to the crowded bakery, awed and obviously sparkling eyes happily roaming through the shiny sea of fashionable silver accessories and various hi-tech rings placed behind the jewelry store's transparent electrified display. A few of the cheapest accessories actually manage to catch Caitlyn's eye and although the sheriff isn't particularly interested in intricate golden stun-rings and homing laser beam shooting pearl necklaces, even she can't deny the craftsman's resourcefulness when she suddenly spots a pair of explosive cupcake earrings casually laying behind the shop's illuminated and energized, rapidly flickering window.

The Sheriff pauses for just a moment, carefully inspecting the intricate item. The craftsmanship is good, the circuits' patterns passable and even inconspicuous enough for them to flawlessly merge with the cute little silver cupcakes' finest miniature details.

The jewels' function is also handy, ideal for sudden mid-range confrontations and undercover infiltrations into dangerous gangs' hideouts, but Caitlyn somehow doubts that one of her deputies or even her dear partner Vi is going to actually realize the worth of this ingenious little device. Oh no, Vi might even try using the shiny pieces of jewelry as some kind of makeshift knuckleduster while beating unfortunate crooks or even come up with the horrible idea of attaching explosive devices to her favorite mechanical gauntlets. And Piltover would definitely never survive for more than a single week if such a dreadful, terrifying thought would happen to cross the mind of her dear pink-haired partner.

But then again what was Caitlyn supposed to do with such an incredible bargain? Those beautiful silver earrings were something akin to priceless unexpected treasures to her, a cupcake-shaped miracle and a sign from a higher being that yes, the existence of the infinite Mindpool conceived by both caffeine addicted scientists and drunk, almost wasted inventors alike might actually be a plausible possibility.

Buy us, the jewelry almost whispered to the mesmerized brunette. Buy us and Taric will stop mocking your fashion sense, Blitzcrank will start respecting you more and Vi will stop trying to modify your rifle without your written permission. Buy us and all your dreams shall come true, buy us and the institute might even consider kicking out Teemo!

But will her deputies and friends truly appreciate her new purchase? The Sheriff contemplated that thought as she took a tentative, measured step towards the flickering electrified display of the now closing jewelry store, brown thoughtful eyes never quite leaving the small silver trinkets.

No, Taric will probably keep mocking her fashion sense, Jayce will take one good look at her treasured new pair of earrings and just roll his eyes as if in silent exasperation while Ezreal was probably going to smile politely at her as if secretly pitting her and Orianna… Sigh, Orianna would promptly decide to confiscate the shiny pieces of jewelry or instantly attempt to disintegrate them perhaps, like the damn robot had previously done with Caitlyn's favorite pink cupcake-flavored sniper rounds. Orianna would even use the same dumb excuse too, claiming that any deaths caused by explosive or otherwise cupcake-resembling weapons and projectiles would instantly summon Morgana and Lulu and their endless army of handsomely paid lawyers, or at least something else among those lines.

Caitlyn sighs in defeat, peeved brown orbs slowly slipping towards the loud scientists, drunk merchants and occasional beeping advertising drones, fast determined steps slowly leading her away from the beautiful cupcake earrings and deeper into the bustling hextech market and the cruel cold cupcake-less world of reality.

Lights and sounds, neon glows and hextech screens filled with advertisements, Piltover is the city of Innovation yes, but also the city that lacks peace of mind and tranquility. Caitlyn grimaces, hands briefly rising in order to cover her poor ears when the mechanical sounds coming out from the occasional workshop she happens to pass by nearly threaten to burst her poor eardrums, the cacophony of recorded holographic messages and flickering advertisements slowly driving the annoyed Sheriff into sound induced insanity.

Caitlyn sighs once more and the Sheriff actually even growls in annoyance as she hurriedly moves towards a less occupied alleyway near the other side of the street, almost dragging her feet towards the poorer districts of Piltover. It is quite ironic really how most rich citizens that live near the city's center have to pay a fortune in order to install special noise-cancelling devices in their residences if they ever hope to be finally blessed with some peace and quiet while poorer and admittedly less fortunate individuals leaving in the slums almost dread the threatening silence of their homes that could possibly precede the dangerous presence of a burglar or thief and maybe in some rare cases even a mugger's.

The noise of the crowded street and the loud yells of the colorful peddlers seem to dull just a tiny bit as the Sheriff silently departs from the busy shopping district and decides to head back to the relative, but much more peaceful chaos of her own police station.

0000

Three burglaries, six hextech thefts, one ongoing investigation about a Zaunite crime boss blowing up a cruise ship of all things and at least half a dozen of cases ranging from heinous murder all the way to just vulgarity or indecent social conduct in public places are already waiting for her on top of her mahogany desk when Caitlyn finally manages to reach her office and take a seat beside the neatly placed stack of police reports and various important documents awaiting her evaluation. One quick glance at the rows upon rows of papers and folders occupying her partner's desk sadly confirming her looming suspicion that yes, Vi has obviously bailed on her yet again and so Caitlyn will have to pull another all-nighter in order to finish today's paperwork.

The brunette just grumbles as she starts skimming through the first few reports, defeated striking brown eyes grudgingly following the printed black text as Caitlyn mentally curses herself for strictly forbidding the lazy pinkette from threatening other deputies into doing her part of the paperwork. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty after all…

Another crime report and Caitlyn's eyebrows slowly wrinkle in thought, just who in their right state of mind would attempt breaking into an expensive hextech store just to steal all of their stock of light bulbs? A low cough and a simple yellow box abruptly being shoved on top of the peculiar report briefly derails the Sheriff's current train of thought as perplexed brown orbs slowly rise to meet her partner's mischievous sky blue ones.

"… "

"…"

" Vi… Please tell me that you didn't just stuff all of your incomplete paperwork inside this little box and decided to give it to me as a present…"

Vi pauses for a moment, her face freezing as beautiful sky blue orbs suddenly widen as a small scheming smirk abruptly forms on the pinkette's lips and Caitlyn can already guess what present Vi is going to give to her during the next upcoming Snowdown. The young brunette Sheriff finally dares to release a tired breath and almost sighs in relief when the still smugly smiling pinkette casually shakes her head and then pushes the small yellow box even closer to the visibly cautious brunette.

"You want me to.. open this box for you?'

The pink-haired woman nods and Caitlyn eyes her as she cautiously reaches for the admittedly sudden gift, her suspicious gaze never quite leaving her smiling partner. Today wasn't her birthday, was it? No, of course not and it couldn't possibly be the _Employer Appreciation Day_ either. Was Vi just messing with her? Perhaps, but the Sheriff doubted that, the pink-haired woman would know better than to try pulling another prank on her so soon after Caitlyn threatened to confiscate the enforcer's beloved mechanical gauntlets a mere few days ago. The pinkette troublemaker wouldn't try again so soon, now would she? But then again sometimes even Caitlyn herself had trouble deciphering Vi's childish thought patterns.

Caitlyn's gaze lowers as she carefully removes the lid and mentally thanks the gods when nothing starts ringing, releases smokescreens and/or explodes, a tentative peek into the box and most of her fears are quickly dispelled when she finally lays eyes on what she assumes is supposed to be her present.

The present isn't thankfully a stack of crumpled, ink-stained documents or an incendiary device or even a camera tampered to act as a flashbang as soon as the lid of the box is removed, neither does the present consist of another indecent book or pair of revealing lingerie like the last time… The small parcel contains just two simple trinkets, a pair of crude cupcake earrings made from various odds and ends, cogs, copper wiring and a few welded miniature bolts placed on top of each jewel as if to make those metal parts look like little cherries on top of the tiny cupcakes.

Vi's gift doesn't possess the craftsmanship of the ones Caitlyn had stumbled upon while patrolling near the market district, but even she can perceive the care and hard work put behind the construction of the miniature jewels.

"One of the cupcakes can also function as a tracking device. So I-We! We as in the team! Now WE can always have your back when you are tracking some dangerous scum or psycho." Vi whispers in a low voice and Caitlyn is mildly surprised when her usually pompous and loud partner actually refuses to meet her brown gaze and Vi decides that she prefers to keep her eyes firmly locked on the now empty yellow box instead of her brunette partner, and if Caitlyn didn't know any better she might have assumed of seeing the faintest dusting of red coloring the currently fidgeting pinkette's tattooed and visibly nervous face.

"Thank you, Vi. They are beautiful."

The pinkette nods, whispers something that sounds suspiciously like: _not as beautiful as my Cupcake_ , hastily peeks at the smiling brunette and then proceeds to march stiffly out of the office's door like an automaton before she swiftly vanishes into the next hallway.

Caitlyn smiles, her fingers still fiddling with her new pair of earrings before she fondly glances towards her partner's 'empty' desk and spots the endless stacks of folders and documents she will have to go through until the next morning and the Sheriff's warm smile instantly vanishes. Caitlyn just sighs in defeat as she grabs another report from the nearest stack and starts skimming through its contents, but absentmindedly her fiddling hand never lets go of her new pair of earrings.

 _The End_

* * *

 **Notes: An old oneshot,** **I still cannot fathom how a story that was supposed to be a One-Punch man / Vi crossover ended up with Caitlyn wanting to shop cupcake-shaped** ** **miniature grenade** earrings…**


	17. Love advice

The whole situation was aggravating to say the least. Syndra herself already knew that she was a rare beauty and a goddess. Her immense magical power was capable of lifting entire continents and defeating even the most legendary and undefeated of armies. Most Ionians still refused to even whisper her name out of fear and grudgingly showered her with gifts and random shows of respect in a futile attempt to both refrain from drawing her ire and try to win the powerful sorcerer's favor.

And yet even though what sometimes felt like the entire continent seemed to bow and bend to her will and the leaders of various city-states and nations tirelessly kept sending her boons as tokens of respect and generally tried their best to appease her, Viktor, that foolish man stubbornly kept refusing to give her the time of his day, preferring to tinker with machines and play with giant tin cans instead of acknowledging the supreme creature before him that was pining for his affectio- Ahem, trying to casually converse with the handsome Herald.

The dense workaholic scientist would always cut her off mid-sentence in order to contact an underling or program a machine. He would ignore her greetings to type something on a new device and pause to adjust the power output of the third mechanical limb hovering over his shoulder as he passed her by. Viktor would never wish her a pleasant evening! He would always fail to show up at her birthday party, his metallic League locker would automatically launch itself away from her whenever she would so much as try approaching the damn thing while holding a visible envelope, and the few love letters she would occasionally manage to mail at him would promptly be emailed back to her or be delivered back through a drone or an army of robots.

One of the Machine Herald's mechanical servants had even looked apologetically at her slumped, sad hovering form before reaching to sympathetically squeeze one of her pale shoulders. Syndra had mailed it back to Viktor in pieces.

And that wasn't even the worst part! Oh no, Caitlyn would keep mentioning how stalking someone through magical or technological means was a serious crime while attending any of her tea parties and Jayce would always have the stupidest, slyest smile on his lips whenever the Sheriff would start talking to them about international laws and the human rights and especially about a person's personal privacy.

The Dark Sovereign blushes after pondering on those thoughts, she then remembers Ahri's knowing smirk and buries her face in her hands as her dark spheres start fidgeting around her form. Ahri must have been extremely lucky to discover the identity of her secret crush, the sorceress thinks, she wasn't That obvious now, was she?

But then again the Zaunite champions would suddenly move to form a protective wall cutting her off the Machine Herald whenever she entered the mess hall, and that troglodyte Teemo would keep pestering the powerful mage about selling her various secretly taken photos of her dashing ingenious inventor.

Syndra had been of course able to resist the vile rat's blasted temptations. For a day or two that is, but then again how could the dark mage refuse when the cursed rat had acquired for her a close-up shot of her handsome Herald's sleepy cute face? Syndra had even used the picture to decorate her next body pillow and Teemo had gained a powerful new ally for when he wished to bring about the end of the world and the fall of humanity.

So both parties had been pretty happy with the results of their transaction, and that was what mattered the most even though Zilean had suddenly turned into a doomsayer.

But that great deal didn't unfortunately solve the Dark Sovereign's initial problem. Viktor was unmistakably still ignoring the dark mage's advances and even worse the Ionian sorceress had actually seen Orianna getting closer to her desired metal-man! Syndra had been casually spying on them, minding her own business and all that jazz when the horrified white-haired Ionian had suddenly witnessed the Machine Herald's third arm moving to rub itself across the hard steel cheek of Orianna's emotionless visage.

And now Syndra was angry and anxious because the young Ionian mage didn't really know for sure if Viktor was actually stroking the sentient doll or if the Machine Herald's third hand was slowly developing a crush for the infamous Clockwork Lady of the Institute. But even so, every bolt and cog of her man should still belong to the dark pale goddess pining for his heart and so Orianna's actions were wrong and dirty and utterly unforgivable!

The Dark Sovereign was beyond pissed at this point and so her dark magical spheres were spinning around her in small cautious arcs as if the flickering and pulsing summoned magical projectiles were angry bees searching for the culprits that stole their precious honey.

Syndra just couldn't wait to fight against the Lady of the Clockwork in or out of the Rift, now if only someone were to finally choose neglected, poor Orianna…

Syndra silently fumes as her fury has yet to find a target to be unleashed upon, the mage flies in circles as if pacing around the dark purple room, her feet never quite touching the floor as a series of muffled words suddenly draws the Ionian woman's attention. The Dark Sovereign turns towards the source of the sounds, a hand rises and the magical muzzle dissolve as the all-powerful sorceress's annoyed glare finally darts towards the silent anxious form of her captive.

"Yes?"

Luxanna tries to smile at her fellow mage, her arms and legs still restrained by Syndra's dark pulsing orbs as the light mage tentatively clears her throat and addresses the Dark Sovereign in a meek and uncertain, but certainly polite tone.

"I was wondering as to why I am here, if you would be kind enough to explain the reasoning behind..." The light mage smiles again as she attempts to gesture towards her magically restrained limbs but miserably fails to do so due to the Dark Sovereign's orbs and so she settles for pointedly glancing at her trapped arms with her sky blue eyes. " .. all this."

The dark mage nods as she ponders on the young blonde's words, she turns her back at her prisoner and then murmurs something under her breath while her gaze wanders outside of the window.

Lux leans her head forward as she tries to decipher the dark mage's whispered words, but ultimately offers an apologetic smile before she realizes that Syndra isn't even looking at anymore and so the gesture was in vain.

"Pardon me, Syndra, but could you repeat that again?"

Syndra huffs as her head suddenly snaps towards the still trapped blonde girl, purple irises narrowing as if wondering if Luxanna is currently mocking her.

"I said I needed advice you foolish girl! And so you are here to offer me guidance!"

Still confused and uncertain the other mage nods, perplexed blue orbs slowly and earnestly lifting to meet the Dark Sovereign's glare as Luxanna shakes her head in agreement and offers an encouraging smile.

"Of course, and what sort of advice would you wish from me? I would love to help you, Miss Syndra."

"I want love advice."

Luxanna's smile suddenly freezes upon her lips, previously cheerful blue eyes now only conveying shock as she stares at the Dark mage incredulously and the Demacian hero would have undoubtedly been fidgeting and nervously adjusting her weight on the balls of her feet if all of her four limbs or at least two in this case were currently free and unrestrained.

"P-pardon?"

The dark mage hisses as her lilac glare narrows and the orbs limiting Luxanna's movements abruptly start gliding away from the scared light mage intending to painfully stretch the Demacian's limbs to their outmost limits.

"Argh! L-love advice! I would be delighted to give you some love advice, Syndra!"

The Dark Sovereign nods, her angry glare still pointed towards the trapped blonde but the spheres return back to their original places and so Luxanna breathes out a sigh of relief when the pain shooting through her limbs thankfully settles down.

"W-well then! Tell me more about the advice you seek."

"Was that an order?"

Purple eyes seem to narrow further as Syndra continues glaring at the restrained light mage and Luxanna's terrified sky blue orbs suddenly turn the size of saucers.

"N-no! Of course not! What I meant to say was that ah.. You're Beautiful! Yes! A beautiful woman like you shouldn't have any trouble winning over her man! So w-what seems to be the problem?"

Syndra just stares at her for a moment or two and Luxanna can already feel the beads of sweat silently rolling down her face as she smiles encouragingly at the obviously insane dark witch that's currently pondering over the light mage's _cheerful_ words, but the moment soon passes and Luxanna almost smiles and sighs in relief when the Dark Sovereign slowly shakes her head as if fully understanding the blonde mage's current bewilderment.

"Oh trust me, I know, silly girl. I know. Most men can't even take their eyes off of me, but how can I blame them? I mean I _am_ beautiful, I am powerful, and I have a passion few entities can match, people have even told me that- "

Luxanna just smiles and nods, forcing herself to keep jerking down her head as Syndra keeps going on and on and on about her beauty and her talent and her smarts and the way the sun naturally dances across her skin and the moon shies away from her every dawn when it can no longer admire her long silver trenches. And the poor light mage can only keep nodding her head in reply as she patiently waits for Syndra to run out of pretty words and exaggerated self-compliments.

" –and that's why it's so vexing when my Viktor ignores my very existence!"

Luxanna doesn't cringe as she listens to Syndra's final hysterical rants, cringing would mean death after all and the trapped blonde mage wants to live a happy and long life. And so Luxanna instantly lets out a loud fake gasp in response to the Dark Sovereigns lament, her sky blue eyes briefly widening as if the blonde woman can't even begin to fathom how anyone could even think of denying a beautiful and perfect being such as the Ionian Dark Sovereign. An obviously perplexed Syndra just nods in understanding at Luxanna's completely justified shock even as the dark mage then proceeds to scratch her pale chin in thought and waves her hands in both anger and annoyance.

"Have you tried talking to Viktor about how you feel about him?"

Syndra nods and Luxanna's face abruptly twists in fake exaggerated shock and the light mage can now understand why Viktor had suddenly decided to abandon the mid lane and pursue a career as a support far away from the clutches of this insane evil witch that's casually hovering before her.

"What about taking things more slowly? Spend some time with him and let him know you better before you try confessing to him again, hmm?"

The Sovereign hums in response, she then turns around and lets her gaze get lost among the Institute's garden as lilac orbs seem to cloud in thought.

"Perhaps.."

Luxanna lets out a quiet sigh of relief. The madwoman has been placated for the time being and so she might have a chance to get out of this ordeal alive.

"And how am I to approach him then? Viktor is shy, he always avoids staying alone in a room with me and even when he does he always keeps tinkering with his infernal devices."

"O-oh, he is? Then maybe try finding some common ground, something the two of you enjoy and have in common. Maybe the two of you will start having fun together then and you will gradually begin growing closer."

The Dark Sovereign pauses for a second before she slowly shakes down her head whilst still staring out of the room and Luxanna internally cringes, silently apologizing to the Machine Herald for throwing him under the hextech carriage.

"I see.. It was so simple. I just have to spend more time with him and try to have fun, Vicky will then fall for me before he even know it. Fufufu yes, that's acceptable.. yes."

The dark spheres that have been holding her captive disappear and the blonde mage suddenly drops to the ground. Luxanna moans as she lifts herself off Syndra's dark purple floor and spares a quick glance towards the still mumbling sorceress before she silently stalks towards the room's exit.

"Vicky likes machines, but I don't like them that much, and most machines are so noisy, but I really like my Vicky! Hmm, what else is there? I have to find something common, something the two of us can use to strengthen our bond. We need some common ground, some kind of goal the two-"

Lux sighs as she finally finds herself out the Dark Sovereign's room, she wipes the sweat of her brow and then congratulates herself for escaping the ashen-haired lunatic and a job well done.

The blonde mage merely smiles at the preaching time wizard and sends him a polite nod of her head as Zilean keeps hollering about the approaching end of the world and Luxanna hurriedly makes a beeline for the safety of her room and a warm bath to wash away her exhaustion and fear. Zilean's hysterical, desperate words failing to register to the young light mage's mind as she waves at her comrades and friends and politely greets an approaching familiar Summoner.

"AND THE END WILL COME AS THE SHINING BEACON OF JUSTICE AND HOPE WILL SEAL THE FATE OF THIS DOOMED WRETCHED WORLD! SOLDIERS WILL RISE WITH EYES DEVOID OF LIFE AND SKIN AS HARD AS STEEL! AND THE BRINGER OF DOOM WILL REJOICE WHEN THE BLACKEST DARK WITCH WILL RUSH TO JOIN THE MAN THAT LACKS A WARM BEATING HEART! AND THE TWO OF THEM SHALL WALK AS ONE AND WILL SINK THIS WRETCHED DOOMED WORLD INTO DARKNESS AND CHAOS!"

 _The End_

* * *

 **Note: I have been editing some older stuff since I've been thinking of jumping ship and joining another fandom. I sometimes browse through the league's shop to get ideas on new ships and story ideas and so I noticed how much Syndra and Viktor contrasted with each other and yet the ship was still achievable and interesting even though I guess Viktor wouldn't care much about love.**

 **I could have taken a lot of paths with this one. I could have followed Syndra's flirting attempts and made them overflow with fluff. Have her kidnap the most popular and desirable champions in the league like Ahri for advice, everyone would fail and surprisingly enough Jinx would show wisdom and tell Syndra to be herself and things would turn out ok. I could have made the Ionian champions conspire and try to make this ship happen so Syndra would settle down and wouldn't be a threat to Ionia anymore, some Ionian champion even having a secret crush on her and walk up to her and kiss her, maybe Karma for variety, but who can deny the SyndraxIrelia ship? I was aching to turn the story into a Yuri story and have Syndra act flirty towards Lux after she mistakes Lux's desperate bluffs and compliments for a sign of her being interested in her. I could have made Syndra have the bright idea of forcing Lux to go on a date with her to make Vicky jealous and start the Yuri magic. Maybe Viktor rejects Syndra after she follows Lux's advice and Luxanna gets angry with him and goes to defend her and kisses her or Syndra is nervous and wants to practice kissing with Lux before she follows the advice and goes on the date. I don't know, the way of Yuri is magical and mysterious. In the end I thought, let's not turn everything into romance for once.**

 **Zilean's words: The beacon is Lux, she just doomed them all, Syndra is the witch that will find common ground in world domination, Viktor is the man that lacks a beating heart, the bringer of doom is Teemo, the soldiers are the machines. I wanted to also add the line, buy wards and repent you foolish mongrels, or something like that but meh. Like always feel free to use any of the ideas if you want to write a story.  
**


	18. Unused Hunter's scene

**One of the unused scenes I have kept from the 'Of Hunters and Scouts' series. Also the site has been giving me errors all week, I get no emails, alerts and upload notifications and I keep getting error messages whenever I try uploading a new chapter. So if anyone out there has recently reviewed in one of my stories and you can't see the review it isn't because I deleted it, but due to the site never sending it to me in the first place. Tags: Slight Yuri, Hurt/Comfort, Quinn, Vayne, Nightmares.**

* * *

Death, blood and thunder, the images keep flashing in front of Vayne's currently shut eyes chasing away the sweet tranquility of sleep, and the fragments of fear remain still buried there, lodged in the young woman's brain even when the nightmare slowly fades away and the Night Hunter's red panicked eyes suddenly snap wide open. The vampire is trembling, her body and forehead already covered in a thick layer of cold sweat as Vayne hurriedly gets up and stumbles towards the bathroom's door, the naked soles of her pale feet clumsily slipping over the small carpet in front of the bathroom's door and then the cream-colored tiles of the floor next to the toilet.

A muffled grunt unintentionally escapes from Vayne's lips as the Night Hunter dives, practically lunges towards the porcelain bowl before the contents of her stomach suddenly explode outwards, dark crimson droplets of coppery life-nectar abruptly raining down the porcelain bowl leaving the shaken benevolent vampire completely and utterly breathless. Vayne chokes for a few more agonizingly long seconds and then she sighs, her gaze still locked on the bloodstained toilet bowl even as Quinn's loud footsteps abruptly announce her soulmate's approach.

Vayne sighs, a small grumble already escaping from the sick vampire's bloodstained lips along with a trickle of crimson blood even as Quinn silently kneels behind Shauna's hunched form and proceeds to gently wrap her arms around the pale panting vampire's stomach. Vayne instinctively almost purrs when she abruptly feels her soulmate pressing one side of her face against her still trembling, impossibly rigid back as Quinn quietly waits for her lover to calm down.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up.. I am fine." The Night Hunter tries to reassure her lover, but Quinn will have none of it and so Vayne sighs in both annoyance and relief when the scout blatantly ignores her words and chooses to casually lean in and kiss one of Shauna's pale scarred shoulder blades in a way she knows that Vayne finds both intimate and soothing.

Quietly and ever so slowly as if the young vampire had been somehow trapped underwater for whole decades and has to learn how to breathe all over again, oxygen seems to start flowing back inside the tormented Night Hunter's lungs and the haze of fear and despair that had been clouding Vayne's head, slowly starts fading.

"You've had another nightmare?" Quinn finally asks against scarred pale flesh after a few tense, silent minutes slowly manage to tick by and the tone of her voice is so gentle and soft as if she is speaking to a scared lost child, the perfect balm for the shattered hurt soul of the cursed Night Hunter and Shauna both loves and hates the way the ranger's low, caring voice so effortlessly plays with her aching heartstrings. And so Vayne unknowingly falls for the kind Demacian scout all over again when the vampire suddenly feels tanned gentle arms slightly tightening their hold around her no longer upset stomach and even more kisses being pressed against her scarred pale shoulder blades.

"Yes, I am sorry. Get back to sleep, my love and I'll be joining you soon. I am going to be fine now, I promise."

But Quinn doesn't even attempt to relinquish her hold on the vampire's stomach and the scout just opts to stay by her beloved shaken soulmate, holding Vayne's still visibly trembling form while whispering sweet nothings against her lover's scarred shoulder. And so time keeps dragging by and a few minutes later Vayne's trembling just ceases completely and the Night Hunter confesses her love to Quinn once more as the pale moon sets and the bright sun emerges from behind the distant mountains shedding radiant rays of hope that chase away the previous night's fears and darkness.


	19. ShyvanaXFiora 2

**This was the until now unpublished introduction chapter I previously mentioned in chapter 8. More details about the plot of the story in the notes of that chapter. Tags: Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Yuri, Romance, Slavery.**

* * *

Shyvana didn't remember much about her old life before the slavers had caught her almost two decades ago. Things like her mother's warmth or her father's gentle voice were entirely lost to her, blurry fragments crawling in the back of her mind muddied by the relentless flow of time. Shyvana had long since lost the count of the times she had tried recalling those faint and scarce memories while curled up on the floor of her small cell at the end of each passing day before reluctantly letting the sobs of her cellmates finally lull her to sleep.

It didn't really matter however, that part of Shyvana's life had already ended a long, long time ago, her childhood stripped away by the evil humans that had so cruelly snatched her away from her dear mother's warm loving arms. Still, the thought of someone genuinely caring for her was pleasant and comforting in some weird sort of way and since thinking was one of the few freedoms the dragoness was permitted inside her iron cell Shyvana would admittedly find herself daydreaming quite frequently.

The subjects of the caged grey dragoness' quiet daydreams varied and changed continuously, alternating almost each passing day, with the most common ones involving a plate of delicious food silently being placed on the ground in front of her, right before her malnourished and beaten body. The food would usually be offered to her by some kind merchant or considerate city guard that had just happened to be wandering in that part of the slave market. Some other pleasant and cherished fantasies involved the use of medicine, magical salves being applied on her sore bruised body after receiving a particularly harsh beating and the miraculous mending of her terrible wounds.

There were also some other daydreams of course. Images of her escaping, bittersweet thoughts of her past, her life's story pieced together by a hundred fuzzy visions dulled by anger and pain. And at some rare times when Shyvana wasn't in too much pain and the slavers hadn't been stingy with the portions of her food Shyvana would find herself wondering what might have become of her if the humans had actually failed to discover her parents' hut in the heart of the great green mountains.

But those relatively peaceful daydreams didn't usually last for too long however and they always seemed to be abruptly cut in the same exact way, with the dazed dragoness suddenly waking up startled by the screams of the newest arrivals being led to their various training rooms and their steel or iron cages.

Shyvana wasn't the only one that liked daydreaming of course. The other men and women in the cells also seemed fond of creating blissful visions for themselves and frequently found some solace in reminiscing of more pleasant times in their lives during the long sunless hours of nighttime.

The vast majority of the unsold slaves regularly tried daydreaming of their families saving them from this obscure piece of hell or the beautiful kind master that came to buy them off the slavers' cruel hands and chose to take them as grooms or as brides. Shyvana had always found those thoughts utterly ridiculous, but even so she refrained from saying that aloud to them. Anyone brave enough to dream in that cursed rotten place deserved a ray of hope in their tortured hearts after all, no matter how futile and unreachable that ray of light might actually be for even the luckiest slave.

The approaching sound of heavy footsteps suddenly disturbs her thoughts and much like the rest of her fellow slaves Shyvana instantly stiffens, golden draconic eyes briefly narrowing as they dart towards the other side of the room in nearly absolute darkness.

Were their cruel captors actually returning during the late hours of the night just to bring them more food and water? No, that was quite unlikely since the slavers had already tossed them a few breadcrumbs and filthy loafs of bread some time after the nightfall and past experience had unfortunately taught her that their captors wouldn't usually bother giving them anything more than those few loafs of bread for at least until the next daybreak.

The room's heavy oaken door suddenly bursts open, its hard wooden surface abruptly slamming into the grey stone wall with enough force for it to actually crack and even peel some dust off the door's filthy paint, the loud sound emitted by the mighty slam loud enough to have most of the other slaves wake up and jumping in fright, muffled sobs instantly escaping from their dry and cracked lips.

The rugged slaver ignores their startled gasps. His burly frame barely illuminated by the light of the simple torch in his hand, and the slaver's dark expression only shows disgust and contempt as the man then proceeds to scan the dimly lit room with his black beady eyes. The crook's intent gaze lazily moving across the pilled trembling bodies stuck in their tiny cells, dark greedy eyes obviously searching for potential prey before his black greedy glare finally stops as the slaver suddenly lays eyes upon her still sleeping cellmate. Fiora, the Demacian blueblood turned slave.

The man shows a toothless grin, his rugged features twisting from lust, fat fingers already extending to grab the caged woman's hair. But Shyvana proves faster than him. The grey dragoness doesn't waste a single moment before she lands a kick in the slaver's outstretched hand, using her bruised chained foot to shove away his greedy appendage before pulling the slumbering woman closer to her and as far away from the slaver's reach as her small cell allows her. She then proceeds to wrap her grey malnourished arms around Fiora and growl somewhat protectively.

The chained noblewoman wakes up with a jolt and then shoots a hot scorching glare towards her loud and obnoxious cellmate, but the former duelist's angry curse instantly dies on her lips the moment Fiora suddenly notices the burly man clutching his pained appendage. The fallen duelist freezes like a trapped animal caught in a voidling's sight.

The slaver snarls, his black beady eyes practically overflowing with malice, the scent of cheap alcohol on his breath permeating the air of the damp shady dungeon. Shyvana stays still, calmly returning his enraged hateful glare, her fierce eyes of molten gold flaring in the relative darkness.

"Just walk away, Flint."

Her cold voice is an irritated growl and there is a hint of a beastly snarl hidden somewhere in its dangerous undertone, but the man stands his ground, too stupid or maybe too drunk for him to actually recognize a natural-born killer. His hand disappears inside his pockets as the slaver casually searches for the key to the dragon's cage.

"Walk away little man. Harold will no doubt have your head if you so much as damage the blueblood before the big auction tomorrow."

There is no trace of humanity left in her tone this time. Shyvana's voice is a thunderous roar, the challenging shout of the dragon twisting inside her guts, swelling inside her lungs only to emerge from her snarling mouth a few moments later carried upwards with a whiff of black smoke and small yellow embers dancing across the edges of her dry lips. Shyvana can already feel the enchantments of her slave collar vibrating slightly in the dark, the carved Shuriman runes suddenly springing to life reacting to the ashen slave's hostility. The drunk man also notices the ominous glow it seems since he pauses to smile at her mockingly.

"You are bluffing, you stupid bitch! You try raising your hand against me again and the slave collar will fry your empty reptilian brain."

The grey female dragon merely hums in response as golden eyes silently stare at him from the shadows of her cell, black whiffs of smoke now visibly escaping from the corners of Shyvana's closed mouth.

"Then try me. Unlock this door for me little man. Come and get a glimpse into the belly of the beast and let's see which of us is the fastest killer, my flames and claws or your untrustworthy little slave collar?"

Shyvana sees the fear in the man's eyes before its putrid odor even hits her nostrils and she calmly observes the mist of drunken stupor clearing in a moment's notice, suddenly cleansed by his primal urge to flee from her golden sight. Flint's cowardly heart abruptly clenches as he watches the unnerving sight of Shyvana's draconic heritage slowly fighting its way to the surface and listens to the ominous hum of the Shuriman runes gradually peaking and intensifying.

Flint's gaze is glued on the thin trails of smoke escaping from each side of her upturned cracked lips. The slaver takes a step back before he even notices it and Shyvana's smile widens as the runes carved into her slave collar suddenly dim dramatically before finally fading completely.

"That's what I thought, Flint."

The slaver scoffs while grudgingly returning the key back to his pocket, his anger completely forgotten as he tiredly sighs in defeat.

"Tsk, why the hell didn't we just leave you back in the Bilgewater? Damn, I should have known that fifty coins for a healthy female, even a freak like you was just too good of a deal for it not to be a trick somehow! You could be sold as a concubine, a mine worker, hells you could even become a part of some rich Zaunite pervert's creepy snake collection for all I care as long we got some coin out of it! But then again how in the nine hells was I supposed to know that you hadn't actually been trained!?"

"It's all like you said, Flint. You really should have seen it coming. My price was just too low for a healthy female slave and Barlan would have probably even paid you if that would mean you were going to get me out of his hair. And so you and I are now stuck in this hellhole and we keep making each other even angrier and more miserable."

"Not for long, girly. Not for long." The slaver abruptly chuckles, the sound closer to a dying man's quivering breath than a normal sound of joy and Flint's apparent confidence suddenly makes the dragoness' blood turn to ice.

"You see, girly, after your little stand in Zaun Harold and I realized you wouldn't just comply and let yourself be sold like a good slave. So dear old boss and I had to take some extra measures to make sure you would definitely be sold at the next town we arrived. And then we also stumbled on little blueblood Fiora over there and that got the two of us thinking. Just who exactly is going to pay the most for a young Demacian noblewoman and a hotheaded ferocious Half-Dragon?"

Oh no, that's bad, that's really bad. Shyvana can already feel the usually unfazed noblewoman's iron grip on her clothes. The proud duelist's muted tears currently wetting her ashen neck, Fiora's almost mute sobs vibrating against the grey dragoness' malnourished and bruised body.

The young woman was a brave one, maintaining her arrogant attitude and sharp tongue even in captivity, lashing at slavers and slaves alike, mocking them all for their incompetence and inferiority with every noisy collected breath she inhaled. And now.. Now that same fearless Fiora is currently pressing herself against her chest and trembling like a scared toddler and Shyvana doesn't have to be a genius to realize that the two of them are in deep, deep trouble.

"Noxus"

Shyvana unfortunately knows that terrible word. She recognizes its crude sound, the distant looming threat, the hint of danger and violence hidden in those five bloodstained letters. The other slaves seem to almost fanatically utter that same word every single night when they gathered in the center of their tiny dark cells, their busted lips quivering in fright and their hands clenched on top of their scared hearts, eyes closed tightly, eyelids scrunched up as they all start chanting in unison.

"Noxus, please not in Noxus. Please anywhere but the black soulless city. Gods, oh gods please don't let me get sold there." The other captives usually pray as they slowly sink in despair and cry themselves to sleep and now that they all know what their next stop is going to be the foul scent of dread escaping from the slaves' pores is practically making Shyvana sick to her stomach.

The dragoness swallows, forcing the mixture of bile, flames and ash back in her belly, her talloned fingers moving soothingly across the tense Demacian's back trying to calm her down. Fiora isn't her friend after all, but that doesn't mean that the duelist deserves what awaits any Demacian noblewoman beyond the gates of the black soulless city. None of them really does.

Flint finally leaves and the door slams shut with a loud thud as the slaver's evil laughter echoes in the dark empty hallways until the great cacophony caused by the curses and sobs screamed by the people still locked in their cells soon overpowers and covers the maddening sound.

Fiora still sniffles against her chest and Shyvana is about to get up and distance herself from the crying blueblood now that the slaver has finally left them alone, but then she is suddenly being pinned against the cell's stone wall and hungry equally dry lips abruptly brush against her own.

Surprised golden eyes quickly rise in order to meet Fiora's still wet fierce blue ones and Shyvana carefully examines the duelist's forlorn and solemn, vulnerable expression for a mere second or two before the dragoness sharply nods her head and lowers her hands to cup Fiora's thighs.

The fallen duelist lowly sighs in relief. She wraps her arms around the dragoness' neck and softly kisses her cellmate once more, agitated blue orbs never quite leaving the dragoness' liquid golden gemstones.

The draconic slave growls and deepens the kiss in response and Fiora's soft throaty moans are soon joined by a variety of similar sounds emitted by some of the other occupied holding cells filling the filthy dark dungeon. The dragoness pauses for a second and Fiora shivers as a taloned grey hand carefully moves to stroke the duelist's breast under her rags.

"Are you really sure about this?"

The former duelist shivers again and Shyvana suddenly realizes that Fiora is actually trembling as the once proud and arrogant noblewoman now unceremoniously lets her lithe body collapse on top of the dragoness' lap and presses herself against her exotic cellmate.

"P-please." Fiora desperately begs in a low urgent whisper, her scratchy tone almost smothered by the moans of the slaves making love in the other cells and Shyvana quickly understands and so she complies and silently leans in to press a soft chaste kiss against the smooth dirty temple of the obviously nervous and fidgeting former Grand Duelist.

Shyvana can't really blame Fiora for desperately wanting to experience a pleasant, caring touch while she still can, especially if denying the blueblood's unspoken request would mean that the poor captured woman will have to pass through the cruel gates of the black city as an unloved virgin.

The caged grey half-beast carefully shifts after a couple of minutes or so until it is now Shyvana's own nude back that faces the cell's locked door instead of the former Grand Duelist's and her pale ashen body somewhat obscures the sight of the flustered and naked Fiora from their fellow slaves before she once again locks eyes with the currently furiously blushing noblewoman. Fiora gratefully nods her head and both pairs of eyes slowly close as their bodies collide once more, their lips part and their already uneven, ragged breaths quickly become more frantic and intermingled.

 _The End_


	20. Bad Luck Cait

**I would like to tag this one with the comedy tag, but I unfortunately lack the funny bone and so I can only tag it with: Slight Yuri, Vi and Caitlyn.**

* * *

"Mister Teemo Fuzzyhands, please step forth and summon your familiar." The gruff and stern voice of their blue-skinned headmaster, Ryze commands with both impatience and unmistakable authority and the small yordle murmurs a nervous, yes Sir, before it hurriedly walks away from its fellow classmates and rushes to step into the softly glowing magic circle drawn at the very center of the dimly lit chamber.

"I- I summon thee o precious and powerful kindred soul, and so I command thee to split the plane of existence you have once called your home and now appear before me! Come forth my loyal familiar!" The short furry man yells in an obviously determined and tense, albeit somewhat squeaky tone of voice. And then the next thing the young summoners know the magical circle suddenly shines a blinding green and a small three-legged mushroom with six milky white eyes abruptly appears right next to the robe-clad form of the visibly cringing yordle.

Headmaster Ryze nods and grunts something under his breath as the male yordle and its newly summoned familiar slowly make their way back to the currently giggling crowd of their fellow summoner classmates.

Caitlyn briefly grimaces as the boy's familiar clumsily walks by her and their peers, the summoned creature's three hairy, spiderlike legs relentlessly stabbing the polished marble floor underneath it. Some kind of yellow dust or even liquid pollen seems to be also leaking out of the peculiar creature's arachnid legs forming countless small disgusting puddles of yellow goo all around the nightmarish being and its ashamed, blushing summoner. And Caitlyn abruptly finds herself praying once more that her own personal familiar isn't going to be some kind of cannibalistic beast or a creepy monstrosity like poor little Teemo's.

Their fated familiars are going to be their partners and friends for the rest of their lives after all and Caitlyn would really prefer it if she didn't have to spend the rest of her days desperately trying to defend herself from her own bloodthirsty familiar.

"Miss Orianna Reveck, please step forth and summon your familiar."

The young female summoner rigidly nods her head and Caitlyn wishes her friend a _good luck_ as Orianna's black robed figure swiftly crosses the room and takes her place inside the magic summoning circle.

"I summon thee o precious and powerful kindred soul, and so I command thee to split the plane of existence you have once called your home and now appear before me! Come forth my loyal familiar."

The magic circle shines a soft silver color, Orianna's summon splits the unseen veil of the world apart and not even a moment later there is some kind of metallic sentient ball casually hovering right beside the proudly smiling female summoner.

"Well done, Miss Reveck, now please step back and join your classmates. Miss Caitlyn-"

The rest of the headmaster's words quickly become a dull stream of muffled sounds for the young agitated summoner as Caitlyn hesitantly steps away from her classmates and friends and forces herself to bring one foot before the other until she finally stops inside the very center of the ominous glowing magical circle.

The brunette summoner pauses, clears her throat and then wets her lips. Caitlyn feels like she is going to faint and she doesn't even remember how to breathe. Her palms are sweaty and her dry throat hurts as Caitlyn anxiously stares at the mystical runes beneath her feet and hesitantly utters the magical incantation.

"I summon thee o precious and powerful kindred soul, and so I command thee to split the plane of existence you have once called your home and now appear before me! C-come forth my loyal familiar!"

But nothing magical or spectacular happens at all, the runes glow crimson for a second or two and then dim back to normal. The other summoners soon start murmuring and gossiping among themselves and some of them even start mocking the petrified brunette summoner.

Caitlyn is left practically speechless, her sky blue eyes widen in shock as she violently whips her head to stare at her seemingly equally puzzled and frowning headmaster. Ryze is currently looking uncertainly at the magic circle and Caitlyn's heart suddenly feels like a big stone that's weighting down her aching chest as the brunette summoner quickly realizes that not even Ryze, the old and extremely powerful headmaster of the world's most prestigious magical academy himself, seems to has even the slightest idea as to why her summoning ritual has failed so miserably.

Caitlyn first realizes that she is experiencing a panic attack when her body starts shaking and her vision starts swimming. Ryze takes an alarmed step forward and offers her some kind reassuring words and that makes Caitlyn feel even worse as the brunette summoner silently wonders what actually happens to any of the academy's students that fail to summon even their own private familiars. W-was the headmaster actually going to kick her out of the Summoners Academy now? Was there even a point in her still staying here if she couldn't so much as perform a simple summoning spell?

Those and even more terrible thoughts were soon occupying the young brunette summoner's head, drowning the jumble of murmurs and mockeries of her former classmates until the runes beneath Caitlyn's feet suddenly glow a vibrant red and then abruptly explode.

rIiiin… Ggg..

Caitlyn can't quite remember how she ended up sprawled across the floor, her ears are ringing and her eyesight is a messy smudged blur. She silently wonders what happened to the rest of her class and if she had perhaps momentary passed out for some reason.

"Sorry for being late, Cupcake, your summoning magic kinda got through to me while I was still in the bathroom." An unknown feminine voice abruptly blurts through the haze of black, white and grey hues obscuring her vision. Caitlyn blinks and her eyesight is still trying to adjust when she suddenly spots something big, purplish and bipedal hurriedly approaching her from the other side of the ruined summoning chamber.

"Oh! And also what's up with all those people here sleeping and moaning on the floor? Is that some kinda wacky welcoming custom of your world or did I just happen to arrive when everyone here is nursing a hangover?"

What? Weird customs? _Her_ world? What is this strange purple woman even talking about?

"Hey, that furry moaning fella over there just did a weird mystical gesture with a raised index finger! Is that how you say hello in this world? Human customs are hard to understand for us newcomers, I tell you. We simply greet people by saying hello or just wave a hand where I come from."

The downed brunette tries to croak a curse, her appendages still too heavy and weak for her to try to stand up just yet and Caitlyn smiles in relief when she suddenly recognizes the blurry silhouette of Ryze attempting to lift himself off the ground. Only for _her_ excited familiar to casually shove him away and so the blue dazed man ends up falling back to the ground.

"Stand back, blueberry-man, this poor collapsed maiden on the floor is obviously in need of some space to breathe and generous amounts of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!"

Wha-?! The next thing Caitlyn knows is that someone is trying to shove their whole damn tongue down her throat in front of her entire class and a few girls blush while the majority of the gathered crowd either gasps, cheers or squeals in surprise and Teemo merely grunts somewhere in the background. Her vision is soon somewhat restored and the brunette summoner can finally lay eyes on her precious familiar as the other woman's mouth slowly retreats leaving a thin trail of saliva connecting their glistering lips together.

"Hmmm! You even taste sweet like a cupcake! Oh, you're all better now I see! That's great, no need to thank me, Cupcake-lips! I just know we two are gonna be this planes bestest most awesome partners!"

The creature speaking to her is a purple female demon with hair as white as snow and a darker purple VI tattoo decorating one side of her face, two long proud onyx horns with traces of pink and red hues near the tips seem to be sprouting out of the attractive demoness' head and Caitlyn gulps in response when her cheerful Familiar suddenly flashes her a toothy grin exposing pearly white teeth and two deadly sharp fangs to the still petrified, blushing summoner.

"Name's Vi by the way." The smiling familiar says in a low and flirty tone even as her thin pinkish tail lashes behind her back in order to trip poor Ryze and send him face first back on the cold hard ground.

"So.. How about the two of us leave this noisy dump so you can show me where I can find a bloody stiff drink or two in this bizarre dimension?"

Caitlyn gathers all of her courage to take a peek at the almost completely destroyed summoning chamber and her hysterically laughing classmates and friends and also the furious headmaster that seems ready to literally hex both her and Vi to oblivion and hastily nods her head. Caitlyn then grabs one finger of Vi's enormous armored hands and makes a mad dash for the exit.

"Hell yeah! I knew that mortals liked to party!"

 _The End_

* * *

 **PS: I definitely didn't listen to Eminem's Lose yourself while editing Caitlyn's summoning attempt just to have some evil chuckles, and I am definitely not smiling cruelly right now.**


	21. A RivenxIrelia drabble

**This chapter is rated M because of loosely described sexual abuse and prostitution. Tags: Riven, Irelia, Yuri.**

Riven had been intrigued at first when the gorgeous female Ionian had abruptly knocked on the Exile's door. The unknown woman had looked like an alabaster goddess with long ebony trenches flowing down her back and a pair of jade-colored eyes that would make any woman or man flare with intense lust and desire. The Noxian deserter had actually felt relieved knowing that her next customer was both attractive and around her age, and Riven preferred lying with other women instead of burly Ionian men anyways.

The Noxian prostitute's relief hadn't last long however. This woman was violent, cruel and harsh. She would bite and claw, manhandle her and insult her, turn each kiss into a stinging bruise and each lay into a sweaty torment. The Ionian woman would then send the former Noxian soldier a nasty glare before angrily shoving a few Ionian bills inside one of Riven's abused crevices and then finally departing.

Riven had fled from the small Ionian village after a few nights spent with the violent female, but not before learning of the Ionian Captain's real identity. Irelia had found her again before the next nightfall.

Once again money had exchanged hands and Riven had found herself spread across the drenched bed sheets writhing in pleasure and pain beneath the female Ionian. Riven had felt sick afterwards, but she could now understand the beautiful Ionian warrior's violent tendencies in bed and her unconcealed animosity. Irelia wasn't tormenting any random scarred Noxian prostitute after all. She was knowingly abusing and humiliating a former enemy commander.

Riven had occasionally tried relocating after that sudden revelation had crossed her mind, but Irelia would always manage to find her again. Money would then change hands once more and mattresses would relentlessly creak under the two enemies' weight. But at least Irelia's ruts would now alternate between extremely brutal and just plain harsh and so Riven would sometimes find the whole experience a little less painful and humiliating and a tad more enjoyable.

It was only after a particularly cold winter's night that Riven would finally see a less threatening side of Irelia. Riven was sick and feverish. All the worrying about the Captain's frequent visits and her nightmares from the horrors she had experienced during the war had finally managed to deteriorate her health to the point a simple cold could now actually bedridden the once mighty Noxian Exile.

A series of short loud knocks against dirty wood and the exiled warrior somehow manages to get up and stumble towards the door. Twisting the rusty iron key feels as tiring as swinging her reconstructed broken sword and Riven doesn't even wait to spare her least favorite client a single glance before the prostitute silently drags herself back to her bed. Riven closes her eyes, releases a tired sigh and then calmly waits for Irelia to start ravaging her.

And so the Ionian Captain quietly approaches the bed and descends upon the vulnerable feverish Noxian.

Except that this time Irelia isn't cruel and harsh and her touch can even be described as pleasant as delicate fingertips gently glide across Riven's numerous chemical burns and soft ruby lips tentatively brush against the clammy feverish skin of the weakened Noxian Exile.

…

Riven doesn't remember much from what actually happened last night other than kind jade-colored eyes and a loving affectionate touch. But that's alright since Irelia is still lying right next to her when the Exile wakes up. The Ionian woman's surprisingly content sleeping face silently breathing mere inches away from the perplexed Noxian prostitute's.

* * *

 **Not much to say, I always wondered if Riven had to result to prostitution while fleeing from Noxus and what would be Irelia's reaction when they met. Classic hate turns to love story, overused theme, I know, but I still absolutely adore it. I thought of implying that Ionians can recognize their soulmates and so Irelia kept visiting Riven as an excuse to be with her. She was also rough with Riven so the Noxian Exile wouldn't suspect Irelia's real motives, but she just couldn't keep pretending when she found out that Riven was sick. I wanted to keep the story short like a drabble, however and so I didn't include that part. Should I have? Anyone has any thoughts on the story?**


	22. RivenxIrelia part 2

**This chapter is rated M because of loosely described sexual abuse and prostitution. Tags: Riven, Irelia, Yuri.**

* * *

Since the Dawn of Time to the chaos of the terrible Rune Wars almost two long millenniums after the predecessors of man had first appeared every single living breathing being was blessed with the existence of a sole and precious soulmate. A perfectly compatible soul that gave a person's life a new meaning, complemented them, made them whole and alleviated a lonesome being's tormented existence. And so most people would spend the majority of their lifetimes in a futile and usually utterly fruitless attempt to discover and finally unite with their precious fated ones. Except for Ionians.

Ah Ionians, the admittedly most spiritual and mystical of folks residing in the dangerous world of Valoran, and the only human beings that somehow seemed to possess the magnificent gift that allowed them to recognize their precious soulmates. Some people often claimed that this unique gift was the blessing of an ancient god and others that the land of Ionia itself was magical and conspired to guide its people to a brighter tomorrow. Nobody really seemed to actually know the origins of the Ionians' mysterious gift, but the blessings results were definitely undeniable and every Ionian woman or man would always be able to feel the presence of their fated ones whenever the two beings' paths would inevitably draw closer.

And that's how Irelia knew that her fated one, the cherished other half of her incomplete soul had undoubtedly already perished.

The Captain of the Guard would never be able to smile at them, kiss their lips or feel the warmth of their hands and see the joy in their eyes. She would never hear them call her name in a gentle and affectionate tone of voice or talk to them about the times they would desperately search the entire world while trying to find each other. Every fleeting chance at happiness Irelia might at one point have possessed had already been ruined, snatched away by the savage tendencies of the Noxian dogs and the corrupting touch of their beloved dear bloodied Noxus.

Noxians, how much Irelia hated those violent brutes.. Those rabid animals.. Those soulmate murderers!

Irelia much like some other frightened soldiers had run all the way to the scorched, still smoking crater that had once used to be a mesmerizing valley that fateful day when she had suddenly felt the violent tug of her soulmate's approach. The soil of the once green valley had now turned into an ugly brownish black, wet with poison and the blood of the fallen. Irelia's breathing had hitched upon seeing the enormous piles of the dead corpses, her chest was hurting. The kneeled mourning forms of her fellow Ionians that were scattered around the red piles of the dead were either screaming in rage or weeping for the loss of their beloved soulmates.

Irelia couldn't really blame her crestfallen countrymen, she herself could perfectly understand the immense pain they were feeling after all. The thin strings that had connected these broken people with their maimed and lost fated ones had also been severed much like her own by the time the Zaunites' chemical barrage had finally ceased.

These people were mourning because their cherished soulmates were dying or dead and Irelia couldn't dare to contemplate over how many Ionians had actually died during the chemical bombardment…

It might have been cruel and selfish of her, but even so Irelia couldn't care less at this point. The faint light around her heart, the one that had always used to give her hope and resonated with the life of her precious fated one had already dimed and vanished forever.

…

Irelia had never met the former Noxian commander before, but that didn't mean that she didn't know of the white-haired woman's achievements during the war or that the Captain of the guard would pass on a chance to torment the young soldier turned prostitute. Riven had at one point been one of the ruthless savages that had murdered her precious soulmate after all and so the Noxian had to pay for what she did to her and her fated one. For what Riven had done to all the broken mourning women and men in Ionian.

And so she did and Irelia had made sure that the wretched Exile would hate every second of it whenever the Captain would buy her for the night. The whole process had soon turned into some kind of sick, twisted game for the mate-less and bitter black-haired Ionian woman.

Almost every night Irelia would find herself marching into the former warrior's home. She would toss her a couple of bills and then treat Riven in a way most decent Ionians would find completely inhuman and probably illegal. Irelia would claw and bite the Noxian prostitute instead of kissing her feverish skin. She would pull on her ivory white hair and violently shove Riven's face towards her core, tie and gag the exiled warrior and then force her to orgasm until her flower was red from the abuse and the bed sheets were drenched with Riven's sexual fluids and tears.

The Ionian Captain's frequent ruts had sometimes been so rough that the Noxian prostitute would at times curl up in a ball and sob until the peeved Irelia would finally decide to leave the room and slam the door shut right behind her. And Irelia couldn't have been any happier with Riven's punishment... until the forgotten light that had previously been flickering around her cold cruel heart had abruptly flared up once more and reappeared.

The female warrior had been horrified. This certainly wasn't the first time that a proud Ionian had suddenly found out that their precious soulmate was a Noxian or of Shuriman descent or even some shady traveling merchant hailing from the city of Zaun, but Irelia had never heard of someone that had only recognized their destined soulmate after spending so much time with them. Or so much time mocking them and tormenting them for that matter.

This couldn't possibly be happening to her! Her soulmate had died during the bombardment that ended the war! Irelia could still remember the hopeless feeling of their beautiful light fading from her life as their heartbeat slowed down before ceasing forever! B-but even then, if for some bizarre and mysterious reason her fated one was still alive and had actually been Riven all along their connection should have been fast and even spontaneous. Like two hearts finally beating in synch or the appearance of the sun after a long lonely night.

And yet even after practically drowning in her pitiful excuses and no matter how hard Irelia would try to convince herself otherwise deeply inside the black-haired warrior already knew that her precious soulmate had always been none other than the maroon-eyed Noxian ex commander she had so often mistreated.

The Ionian Captain had cried herself to sleep that night. The still fresh memories of Riven screaming in pain beneath her sweaty form and the wet flashes of hurt maroon orbs whenever Irelia mocked the Noxian female about her _disgusting_ chemical burns now returning back to torment her.

And so Irelia schools her visage into her usual brooding angry mask and marches straight to Riven's door and tosses a few Ionian bills at the surprised prostitute as she roughly shoves her Noxian soulmate towards the small bedroom. There is no way Riven is going to accept her after everything she has done to her. There is no way the exiled warrior is going to stay with her willingly or let the Ionian woman touch her ever again if she even suspects of Irelia's dark shameful secret. The Ionian Captain had previously done her best to make sure that Riven genuinely hated her after all and Irelia had probably even managed to traumatize her poor tormented Noxian soulmate somewhere along the way.

There can no longer be a happy ending for the two of them anymore. That is the price the guilt-ridden Captain of the Ionian guard will have to pay for letting her bitterness and hate control her. She has not only doomed herself to a life without love but also her precious soulmate.

And so Irelia descends upon the former Noxian warrior once more and she hides her soft kisses behind sudden bites and bruised skin and Riven inevitably soon screams in pain when the Ionian woman abruptly shoves the prostitute's face against the bed sheets and attacks her already abused flower. Riven moans and pants as she let's Irelia have her way with her. She closes her eyes and sighs in defeat and never notices the tears rolling down Irelia's face.

But what Riven does notice is that the mattress quakes a bit too much for one sole trembling body and that Irelia's usually painful thrusts are for once kind of.. hesitant? The Captain also refrains for whispering how disgusting she finds her various burns and scars and how nobody's ever going to love her, befriend her or cherish her.

And so Riven can't really help it. The half Ionian opens a single maroon-colored orb, stares at the ruined bed sheets clenched in her palm and dares to hope that perhaps her violent soulmate has finally managed to figure out their connection.

* * *

 **Notes: There you go, the second part. How do you guys like the final plot twist? Riven had already realized that Irelia was her soulmate and vice versa and that's why she allowed the Captain to keep visiting her instead of just saying no. I am going to assume that Riven's heart stopped for a few moments during the bombardment and that's why Irelia had felt her soulmate vanishing.**


	23. Apex Predator

**This chapter is rated M for sexual depictions and exhibitions of female adc's in their natural habitats. It is also based on my Hunters and Scouts au. I am now going to change the rating of the series to M since all of my innocence has slowly withered away. Thank you guys. Maybe.. maybe I should just retire now and become a support Teemo main. See ya in ranked, friends. Tags: Yuri, Vayne, Quinn.**

* * *

"We are almost there. Please keep walking, my love." The trembling pale figure hidden underneath Vayne's arm lets out a small whimper and the Night Hunter grimaces as the two of them slowly navigate the twisted maze of torch lit hallways and summoning chambers existing inside the Institute. Vayne releases a small sigh when she spots the simple wooden door with her name written on it in cursive. She attempts to take a quick peek at the young brunette vampire that is pathetically trembling against her right side and Vayne's concerned brown eyes abruptly widen in fear when she suddenly realizes that Quinn looks ready to collapse on top of her.

"We are almost there! Please keep your eyelids open Quinn! I can't carry you right now if you collapse on the floor or on top of me. There's just absolutely no way."

"I'm not fat…" Quinn murmurs under her shaky breath and probably shoots her an angry glare in response, but thankfully for the Night Hunter, Shauna can't quite see the scout's sizzling red orbs now that the ranger is currently wearing the black-haired huntress's signature ruby sunglasses.

"Of course not my love, but I am not as strong as I used to be. At least not right now that the damn Summoners accidentally transferred my vampiric nature to your body…"

The Night Hunter stops dragging Quinn's deadweight and pauses to unlock the door and the Wing of Demacia lets out another muffled series of angry hisses and small sobs when her tactless lover all but lets her body drop on their black leather couch like a sack of potatoes. A deathly pale and surprisingly strong hand suddenly wraps around Vayne's wrist pulling her closer and even though she should have somehow expected this Shauna almost flinches when Quinn abruptly snarls at her, her pearly white fangs mere inches away from the Night Hunter's face.

Right, sometimes Vayne forgot how agitated and unstable fledgling vampires could be during the first few nights after they had been turned. Well, at least that certainly proved that her beloved Quinn still somehow possessed enough self-restraint not to go straight for her jugular. That knowledge was surprisingly reassuring for the Night Hunter.

"I apologize." Vayne whispers softly at the ruby sunglasses hiding her lover's vampiric gaze, their twin scarlet lenses glimmering like an array of wet crimson gemstones that were left to dry under the sun on an impossibly bright day. The snarling stops, the light behind the red spectacles dims a tad and the ivory fangs are promptly hidden behind the perplexed lips of the Demacian scout.

Quinn comes to her senses mere moments later when the scarlet sunglasses tilt to take a closer look at her lover's reddening hand and the shocked scout suddenly realizes that she has been actually bruising if not downright crushing the other woman's trapped wrist. The fledgling vampire chokes back another sob as Quinn instantly releases the Hunter's wrist and then shoves her appalled tearstained face into the cream-colored cushions of the black leather couch.

"I'm sorry! I am so sorry!" The scout sobs as she feels delicate gentle hands carefully taking a hold of her cheeks before lifting her head away from the tearstained pillow.

The pain returns and Quinn yelps as she tries to curl up in a ball away from the obviously concerned Night Hunter. But Shauna will have none of it, it seems and the Demacian noblewoman uses her gentle grip on Quinn's red tearstained cheeks to keeps their gazes locked together. The brunette scout can only wonder how it is that Shauna Vayne can still overpower her in her current human state with just her calming presence and her silent conviction when _She_ is now supposed to be the big bad predator in their little chamber.

"Tell me what you're feeling."

Shauna's tone is soft, but even so it has a hard determined edge to it that reveals that the huntress won't take no for an answer, and Quinn releases a small hiss as the throbbing sensation wrecking havoc on her entire being suddenly intensifies when she suddenly locks eyes once more with the infamous Night Hunter.

"Everything is weird.. I can't explain it. I'm hungry and yet I know that I am not. E-everything around us is spinning." The Night Hunter simply nods her head, her pale fingertips tenderly massaging the trembling vampire's almost equally pale cheekbones. "That's pretty normal for a vampire. Your body is just trying to adapt to your new unfortunate condition, fledging vampires usually can't even walk before a day or two has passed after they are turned. You are quite lucky to be able to limp back here with me before the fever and the new sensations finally overpowered you."

Quinn growls at that, she isn't feeling lucky at all, but then she notices how Vayne's voice seemingly makes her headache stop and so she tries to spit out a few more words and jumbled sentences just so she can hear Shauna's reply. She loves Shauna's voice.

" My.. Throat is dry and it hurt. I-it hurts so much. Everything is so warm and painful right now." The Night Hunter nods again and she is about to get Quinn a few blood packs from the fridge to calm her down when the weakened scout's words finally catch up with her anxious brain and Vayne abruptly freezes in midstride.

"You are feeling… warm?.." The whimpering vampire frantically nods its sweaty head at the sound of the Night Hunter's question. She would do practically anything to alleviate her maddening headache. Or that painful throbbing sensation that's causing her to spasm and keeps stealing her breath for that matter.

"Yeth, yes, everything is warm, white-hot! So warm and it hurts! It hurts everywhere." Vayne slowly turns to face the pale trembling vampire, her expression calm and suspicious as she swiftly approaches the whimpering woman and carefully raises one of Quinn's legs to take a peek between Quinn's trembling thighs. She doesn't need the soothing moonlight entering from the open window to understand what's happening to Quinn even though the extra lighting does certainly helps now that she doesn't have night vision to notice the drenched mess staining a very specific part of the black leather couch. Quinn's soft yelp as she releases another stream of transparent liquid as a response to Vayne's touch unfortunately confirming the Night Hunter's looming suspicion.

"Try focusing on my voice." Shauna whisper as she tenderly releases Quinn's leg in order to approach and kiss the other woman's sweaty forehead. "I know what's happening to you, my love. You.. are in heat." The shivering vampire isn't really sure what Vayne is talking about but she _Is_ certainly enjoying the Night Hunter's tender touch and so she just purr as her lover starts helping her remove her restrictive armor and her scorching hot leather clothing. Quinn whimpers and sobs, and clenches her thighs together as another stream of clear liquid shoots out of her burning core when Vayne attempts to peel off her drenched pants that stick to her feverish skin with no intention of ever letting go.

The feverish scout shivers as she closes her eyes. Vayne will probably abandon her now. V-Vayne is definitely going to break up with her after seeing this shameful display.

"Shh.. it's ok. I'm here for you. I am going to make the pain stop now, ok?" Quinn shakily nods her head when Shauna lifts her so the feverish scout is now sitting on the Night Hunter's lap. "Shh.. it's ok. This is not your fault. I love you." Vayne slowly kisses her lips affectionately and only then Quinn dares to open her teary red eyes. The young vampire can only read sincerity and love on the Night Hunter's tender expression as the huntress's arms carefully wrap around the Demacian ranger's feverish frame. And then she feels Shauna's delicate fingers slowly slipping under her wet ruined underwear and the scout's now striking red eyes instantly widen in shock.

Quinn sinks her fangs into her lover's right shoulder when the delicate digits abruptly plunge into the aroused tormented core hidden between her inner thighs.

The shaking doesn't stop, the throbbing gets worse, Vayne's blood is making everything white-hot and hazy. Her thoughts are spiraling inside her brain and she might be having a seizure. The brunette vampire squirms on top of Shauna's lap and subconsciously sinks her pearly white fangs even dipper into the huntress' flesh, and Vayne keeps murmuring to the young vampire that it's alright for her to claw at her back and bite her shoulders and that she really genuinely understands and Vayne keeps talking and talking and talking. The Night Hunter's soothing voice keeps the confused fledgling vampire grounded and alleviates some of the Demacian scout's bloodlust and stress. Quinn instinctively purrs as she listens to her mate talking to her about how much she loves her and how beautiful and brave she is and the vampire suddenly melts as she releases another great torrent of pleasure all over Vayne's legs and lower stomach. The Demacian ranger then goes limp and her bloodstained hands slowly slide down before meeting once more, wrapping around her mate's waist.

The fledging isn't quite sure if she can even see after that. Her vision is pulsing, occasionally catching a quick glimpse of black hair or pale skin and the disoriented vampire can't be really sure, but Quinn thinks that there is someone whispering sweet soothing things to her as they plant small kisses against her cheeks and each of her temples before the trail of affection slowly leads to her navel and her wet stained stomach.

"Try to relax, my love." A feminine voice whispers against her pale skin and Quinn's crimson orbs suddenly flare like twin beacons behind her borrowed red spectacles when something warm and wet abruptly starts massaging the stained aroused skin around her burning nether regions. The Demacian scout screams in response and yells her mate's name before her dam finally breaks and darkness instantly swallows her.

0000

Quinn wakes up a little before dawn the next morning. The black sky is smudged with white and blue hues and Vayne has already instinctively positioned herself between the now awake vampire and the potentially lethal open window, shielding the brunette ranger from the sun's harmful stares. Quinn blinks as she snuggles closer to her naked knight with no apparent clothes on or even a single piece of armor and the vampiric scout momentary averts her guilty gaze when she notices the bleeding scratches and bite marks littering her lover's visibly bruised pale body.

…

The vampire leans in and closes her eyes to gently brush her lips against her beautiful Night Hunter's and the Demacian ranger's heartbeat suddenly quickens when Quinn is abruptly met with two mischievous brown orbs mixed with some faint red hues around their cunning edges when she opens her eyes afterwards. A smiling human woman moves to kiss her fidgeting blushing vampire and the flustered vampire once again silently wonders just which one of the two of them is actually supposed to be the apex predator on this black leather couch.


	24. Bloodstained Honor

**Rated M for violence. Wait the series is now rated M so why am I still rating it? So that people won't have to read something they don't want to, _drawing_.. Ohhhh... Tags: Riven, Irelia**

* * *

Riven's eyes narrow and she raises her left hand in a fist when she suddenly spots the bloodstained pile of Noxian corpses. Her squad instantly halts, alarmed eyes scanning the ruined buildings and silent trees as the soldiers fan out and assume defensive positions. The white-haired Noxian commander pauses for a few tense minutes. Her agitated maroon-colored gaze wandering across the surrounding flora and the eerily silent entrance of the Ionian village they were ordered to capture. Riven's face constricts into a rather concerned hostile expression.

…

The stoic swordswoman only kneels down to examine the dead bodies after she confirms that there are no Ionian forces hiding among the trees, but she doesn't find out anything of great importance and so she cautiously signals for her unit to move on and her gruff-looking soldiers instantly obey at once and so the Noxian unit's grim march continues.

0000

Riven and her comrades avoid encountering any problems until they almost reach the village's square. There are no assassins or Ionian martial artists hiding inside the filthy shacks, no archers perched on their brittle wooden roofs and no guards or watchmen announcing their arrival with hysterical cries of pure terror. A quick search of the first few shacks soon reveals that most of their villagers' belonging are either destroyed or missing from their homes and so Riven has to assume that the villagers had hastily fled when the Ionian scouts had spotted the approaching Noxian forces.

That's good. Riven is secretly relieved that she won't have to spill innocent blood today. Their objective is just to capture the secluded Ionian village after all and fighting scared cooks and sheep farmers armed with shovels, sticks and hoes would certainly leave a bad taste in the warrior's mouth. Where is the honor in killing those that can't even wield a proper weapon after all?

Loud laughter and jeers soon draws the Noxian commander's attention and derail her solemn thoughts. Red eyes narrow, her sword quietly crawls out of its sheath and Riven crouches low as she exchanges a meaningful look with one of her appointed scouts. Fang subtly nods, a small iron dagger suddenly appearing on his right hand and the lithe scout soon disappears behind a crooked wooden shack as the rest of her comrades silently draw their respective weapons.

A heartbeat passes and then two more. Riven carefully moves towards the small building she has last saw her scout with eyes burning like hungry embers, but she is suddenly put at ease when Fang abruptly runs back to them without being riddled with spears and arrows or looking particularly concerned for that matter.

"They are Noxians!" He joyously answers Riven's impatient look before he even reaches his agitated squadmates and various sheathes clank and hiss as the majority of the soldiers instantly put away their steel and weapons. "It is Marcus and his unit, they reached the village almost half an hour ago, but it was already mostly deserted when they arrived."

Riven nods in affirmation, her runic blade already hanging behind her back as the Noxian commander pointedly looks towards the village's entrance and the unseen pile of bloody corpses.

"And what about the bodies?" Fang instantly grimaces, probably remembering the sickening sight of the butchered Noxian squad and the young white-haired commander raises a single curious eyebrow in response as she briefly wonders just what kind of Noxian warrior shudders at the sight of fresh corpses and lost lives.

"They were part of Marcus' squad. They apparently stumbled across some kind of big shot Ionian warrior as she was trying to evacuate the village. They managed to subjugate her but they suffered some loses."

The Noxian commander just hums in return. Some loses. Yeah right, that was a great understatement since Riven had counted at least half a dozen of heads among the twisted bloodied remnants of the dead Noxian corpses they had previously seen near the entrance. Marcus' squad had been all but annihilated. Riven's eyes narrow once more as loud chuckles can be suddenly heard from behind the abandoned shacks and the Noxian commander decides to find the source of all the commotion.

She navigates the deserted streets, hurriedly walking between the crooked houses. The female commander's crimson eyes calmly examining the ruined gardens and the broken doors, the empty streets and the dusty cobblestones until the white-haired swordswoman finally steps foot into the small village's square and stumbles across an almost heartbreaking sight.

There is a young Ionian woman standing at the very center of the small crowded square, with long black hair in the color of a healthy raven's wings and eyes as green as the lavishing Ionian forests. Her crimson armor is almost torn and full of scratches and bumps and her face is stained with dirt, sweat, blood and surprisingly enough with the angry fires burning in the woman's eyes, bitter tears.

Riven blinks, her hard crimson eyes seemingly locked with the captured Ionian's. Cold red Noxian chips meeting hurt wet pulls of emerald Ionian lightning. And then a small jagged stone is mercilessly hurled at the apparently tied subjugated woman and the black-haired warrior suddenly howls in pain. The red-clad Ionian attempts to steady herself as the stone collides with her unprotected forehead splitting her fair smooth skin and the restrained warrior releases a low choked sob when a little voice behind her abruptly starts bawling and sniffling. The magic is broken and the Noxian warrior averts her eyes from the pitiful sight.

"Hey, Marcus." She greets the male commander and the burly man snorts as he kneels to gather some more shattered cobblestone to throw at his defenseless captive.

Riven recognizes Marcus' howling laughter as another stone collides with the captured woman's face, but the ashen-haired swordswoman blatantly ignores him as her eyes dart from the red warrior's bleeding tearstained face, to the thick length of rope coiled around the woman's neck. The female Noxian commander slowly approaches her and she soon takes note of how the rope disappears into the rich foliages of an old oak tree only for it to once again sprout from between a series of smaller branches and wrap around the neck of the young bawling child cowering behind the back of the Ionian warrior.

"I see you wanted to meet Irelia, Riven. Excuse me, but she seems to be rather preoccupied at the moment..."

The female swordswoman nods her head even though she hasn't heard a word, her crimson eyes entirely too focused on the captured Ionian that's currently struggling to keep standing on her tired toenails and the young male child standing on top of a splintered stool right behind the restrained Captain.

It is such a disgusting game, Riven notes with some degree of distaste. Irelia will soon tire out and won't be able to stand on her toes. The rope will strangle her and the warrior's weight will make the child's noose rise up, effectively killing it in mere seconds.

A cruel and disgusting game with no honor in it and no other possible winner except from Marcus. Riven suddenly remembers why she dislikes the obnoxious male commander.

"P-Please." A scratchy feminine voice whispers as someone laughs and hurls another stone at the Captain of the Ionian Guard. Riven moves to better face the bleeding warrior and she instantly notices the woman's dry cracked lips and her sweaty exhausted face, the swollen skin around her crying eyes and the endless flood of desperate tears. Irelia's stare is scared and desperate, but Riven can somehow feel the immense inner strength hidden behind the beaten warrior's gaze and she can even witness some kind of brooding conviction still burning inside those wet jade-colored eyes.

Irelia is scared and yet she is not. There is visible defiance in her eyes and yet she is currently begging her enemies for mercy. Riven doesn't understand why such a mighty warrior is sacrificing her pride just to preserve herself. Wasn't the fabled Ionian Captain supposed to be a bane to the invading Noxian army?

"Please.." The raven-haired warrior chokes out once more and her voice is almost lost to the sea of mocking jeers of the Noxian invaders and the whines of the young child quivering behind the beaten Captain. "L-let the child go, it is me you want to kill. The child doesn't have to die. He is innocent."

Riven raises a disbelieving eyebrow at the captured Ionian's words. Irelia wasn't begging her to spare her life… but the child's? Brutality and strength was everything in Noxus. The strong will live and the weaklings must die, was the motto every man, woman and child had to memorize and abide by if they ever hoped to survive in the dark city carved of black stone. Nobody had ever cared for her or protected Riven while she had been a young starving orphan living on the streets. She has had to prove her worth and rise to power on her own.

There was no reason for the stupidity that was kindness and love in this world where betrayal and cruelty reigned supreme after all, and Irelia was a brainless fool if she hoped that any decent Noxian would ever consider her desperate pleas.

"I refuse." More tears start leaking from the red-clad warrior's jade-colored eyes, the jeering soldiers around them cheer and applaud and the female Noxian turns around to leave as both of the Ionians' sobs abruptly rise in volume.

"It is just a kid.."

"See ya, Marcus."

"P-please! Please! He is just a kid! It is innocent! He is an innocent!"

The Noxian just shrugs in response, her back still turned on the crying warrior as Marcus swiftly moves towards the restrained Captain of the guard and brutally punches her in the stomach.

"Yeah, yeah! I've grown tired of this shit, so just die already!"

Riven _almost_ flinches at the choking sounds coming from somewhere behind her. Some of her soldiers are watching the show either with smiles on their lips or bored neutral expressions. Except for Fang, Fang's gaze is glued on his dirty boots and his hands are forming clenched fists silently quivering by his sides.

"Die! Die! Die! Stop standing back up! Come on, I don't have all day to waste on filthy Ionians! Stop standing up! Just die already!"

Riven can hear the repetitive sound of armored fists colliding with fresh and breathless grunts as the bawling of the little kid behind her alternates between muffled sobs and disgusting sounds that makes her sick to her stomach. Riven doesn't even notices it when she suddenly stops walking away from the grim spectacle.

"Die you whore! Die! No! No! Don't stand back up! Can't you see that your struggling is useless?! You fucking-"

Riven closes her eyes and she sees a pair of jade-colored tearstained orbs laced with despair and another pair of young innocent brown eyes begging her for mercy.

No one had protected her back in Noxus. This Irelia woman was just prolonging her suffering.

"Die bitch! Die!"

Would the female Ionian's eyes normally glitter that much if the Captain wasn't in tears?

"Die! Stand down! You are already dead!"

Would the child choose the path of a warrior?

"You are a fucking walking corpse already!"

Now Riven was curious.

"…"

"Now you've done it bitch! You there, give me your damn quarterstaff! Now you fucker!"

There is a sudden crushing sound followed by a feminine howl of pain and then all the sobbing abruptly stops in an instance. Riven swiftly turns around, narrowed crimson orbs as hard as tempered steel. Both Irelia and the child are currently choking, their eyes unfocused and their faces wet as their bodies thrash about violently. Irelia is still trying to stand on her weak feet, but one of her legs seems to be motionless and unresponsive and Riven assumes that the Captain's limb is broken.

The strong will live and the weaklings must die and yet she is witnessing an Ionian lion dying for the sake of a pitiful lamb. Wasn't that showing the strength of Irelia's character? Weren't the strong supposed to be spared to be allowed to grow even stronger?

"Good riddance!" Marcus smirks at the dying Ionians before he starts yelling orders at his remaining two men and someone makes a loud sound of disgust when Fang doubles over and throws up somewhere behind her. Wait? When did Riven even reach the choking Ionian lioness?

"Riven?"

The silent swordswoman doesn't waste her time responding to the puzzled man or even turns around to face him as Noxus' poster child leans down and gets a hold of one of the bloodied leather straps securing Irelia's shoulder guards before she roughly lifts the beaten woman until she is standing on her weak trembling toes.

"What the actual fuck?!"

Irelia chokes and coughs as she tries to regain her breathing and the Noxian female spares the panting child a quick glance in order to make sure that the boy is still alive. Riven waits as the two Ionians attempt to replenish the missing air in their lungs, but unfortunately for them Marcus clearly isn't that polite or that patient.

"Riven, the fuck you want stealing my kill?! You wanna bed the Ionian whore or something?!" Irelia is still shaking and panting as she weakly raises her blurry half-lidded orbs to stare into her savior's emotionless cold ruby eyes.

"Let the child go." The woman croaks and her face is still red and coated with sweat, tears and blood when the Captain of the Guard hesitantly whispers under her uneven breath that Riven can do whatever she pleases with her after she releases the child. Riven ponders over her next course of action for a few silent moments.

On one hand she could save this woman and keep her as a trophy. Irelia seemed like the honorable sort and so the Captain would probably keep her promise and won't attack her. Riven would gain a beautiful slave and a faithful ally and she might even be able to understand why she had come to the lioness' rescue instead of letting her perish as she should in the first place. Some of her soldiers and her comrades might perceive those actions as a sign of weakness on the other hand. She would certainly make an enemy out of Marcus and his remaining men and she will have to fight twice as hard to appease the Grand General and the rest of her superiors.

…

Letting Irelia die here like a dog will be a great waste of a warrior of the Ionian's caliber, but Riven will just have to deal with it, she supposes. For the last time Riven locks eyes with the Ionian Captain and then lets her body collapse back on the hard cold ground.

Irelia is still staring at her. Her piercing jade-colored gaze serious and unyielding, silently scrutinizing the Noxian's emotionless face and maroon-colored orbs as if trying to piece together the pale swordswoman's decision. A faint blush currently visible on the famous Captain's exhausted but beautiful face. Riven raises a single eyebrow and glances down at the Ionian's dangling feet, quietly wondering why Irelia hasn't collapsed yet only to blink owlishly when she suddenly realizes that she had never quite pulled her hand away from the Ionian's shoulder. Wait? Just when did she even find the time to wrap her other arm around the flustered Captain's waist to alleviate some of the injured Ionian female's strain?

Riven internally sighs as she silently removes the knot that was placed around the jade-eyed warrior's abused neck and then carefully lowers Irelia to the ground. She then turns around to face the frothing Marcus.

The reward is so not worth it, Riven muses. She is going to be endangering her life in order to save the lives of two Ionians, and yet she can't help but admire Irelia's spirit and was never fond of seeing unarmed civilians and children getting slaughtered like cattle. Maybe she is just being stupid. Maybe there is really something wrong with her head. But the Noxian commander simply refuses to stand by and let those Ionian lives be snuffed out in such a cruel and dishonorable way.

"Marcus, I challenge you to a duel for your claim on the captured Ionians."

The infuriated commander snarls and draws his crooked swords and Riven mimics him before the two of them simultaneously charge at each other. There is a pause as the enemies clash and so crimson flowers rain down the square of the deserted village as Noxian fights against Noxian and a commander's life abruptly ends before the wide unbelieving eyes of two shocked Ionian captives.

…

 _*Step_

…

 _*Step_

…

 _*Limp_

…

 _*Step_

A scarred bleeding hand silently removes the noose from around the speechless child's neck. Pale palms grip each of the Ionian captive's clothes and start dragging them away from the armed stupefied men and the scene of the recent massacre without uttering a single word. The figure's cold crimson eyes are obviously clouded by conflicting thoughts and yet they are shining bright with unwavering conviction.

 _The end_

* * *

 **Notes: This was the original ending until I realized that I am ruining a serious story to go Yolo and by doing so I am messing up the theme. So I changed it. I think that it was the right choice and you are welcome. Was I wrong perhaps?**

* * *

Wait? Just when did she even find the time to wrap her other arm around the flustered Captain's waist to alleviate some of the injured Ionian female's strain?

"Eh, Miss Riven Sir?"

"Valoran to Riven, do you copy?

"She is my kill!"

"Commander? Hello? Ya in there?"

Riven shakes her head to clear her thoughts as she glances at the rude spectators before her gaze returns back to her beautiful captive. That was weird? One moment she is staring into Irelia's striking green eyes trying to convince herself to let the Ionian warrior fall and seal her fate and the next one she is removing the rope from around the Captain's neck, Irelia is looking at her with an extremely red face and surprised big emerald eyes and Riven can suddenly taste something sweet but mixed in blood and Fang is clapping like there is no tomorrow.

Riven attempts to school her facial features into an emotionless mask before she suddenly whips her head around to send a death glare at the obviously speechless Marcus. But it seems like her body has a mind of its own and her arms somehow manage to pull Irelia against her chest during the time it takes her to observe the one that had previously hurt _Her Captain_. Hmm that mysterious and possessive reaction was probably not that important.

"Marcus, I challenge you to a duel for your claim on the Ionian wench!"

"…"

"And the child." Irelia urgently hisses against the female captain's neck sending a pleasant shiver down the white-haired swordswoman's spine and Riven instantly raises her hand in a dramatic way to point an index finger at the other Noxian commander accusingly.

"Fine! Marcus, I challenge you to a duel for your claim on My Irelia and the extra!"


	25. The toy and the doll

**Not much to say here. Tags: Annie, Janna, mystery, Horror.**

* * *

"That was a very good match, Annie! You did great!"

The little fire mage beams at the kind wind mage's praise and so Annie shyly starts rotating her upper body right and left as Janna leans down to give the short pyromaniac toddler a little pat on the head.

"Does that mean you will bring me sweets after dinner?!" The Dark Child exclaims, the girl's squeaky tone of voice overflowing with hope and excitement and Janna finds herself nodding before she even considers the little fire mage's request.

"Yay!" The green-eyed child cheers in response, small little arms happily rising to wrap around the lithe blonde wind mage's waist. Janna releases a quick mirthful chuckle and pats Annie's head one last time before the young fire mage proceeds to skip away heading for the crowded mess hall, one of Tibber's brown cotton feet soundlessly dragging against the cold marble floor as Annie disappears into an empty hallway.

…

Janna grimaces as she hurriedly floats towards the Dark Child's door, the white pieces of fabric attached to her ivory belt gently flowing behind her as the wind mage hastily navigates the empty hallways heading for poor little Annie's personal chambers.

"Poor little Annie." The ashamed blonde mage whispers, sky blue eyes clearly conveying the young lithe woman's distress. Janna had promised Annie sweets and then the kind wind mage had completely forgotten about it. Now the little fire mage would have to sleep without eating dessert and with the bitter taste of disappointment stuck in her mouth. Unless Janna managed to reach the little pyromaniac mage before Annie fell asleep of course, and then the blonde Zaunite somehow salvaged the situation!

Janna's journey is silent and swift like the gentle wind traveling across the scorched Shuriman land soothing and caressing the exerted faces of lone travelers and hardworking farmers alike. The ashamed blonde wind mage doesn't encounter any problems while roaming the empty corridors and abandoned torch lit hallways of the Institute and soon enough Janna is standing before the Dark Child's door with an apologetic smile on her lips and a small plate containing two slices of delicious apple pie in her hands, brought here to be offered to the pyromaniac toddler as a sincere form of apology.

Pale knuckles brush against the sturdy wooden door. Silence, Janna starts fidgeting after a couple of moments spent in front of the silent door and the blonde mage pauses before she attempts again, her sincere faint smile slowly slipping from her lips as the Dark Child refuses to acknowledge her very existence.

"Hey Annie are you in there? It's me, Janna. I brought you the apple pie I have promised!"

There is no answer. The Dark Child is either asleep or ignores her, but Janna can faintly hear the muffled voices of a hextech screen coming from behind the unmoving wooden barrier. So maybe little Annie wasn't asleep after all. Janna could still make this right!

The blonde wind mage once again taps her delicate pale knuckles against the hard wood of the door and the kind Zaunite woman smiles in relief when Annie's door finally slides open.

"There you are! Annie?"

Janna's polite smile vanishes when the little fire mage fails to appear on the other side of the door. Janna hesitantly floats inside the room, sky blue eyes revealing the young Zaunite's confusion as she tentatively follows the now louder voices of the buzzing hextech screen until Janna finds herself inside Annie's living room and finally spots the apparently preoccupied toddler.

"Annie?"

The Dark Child blatantly ignores her, her green gaze intently focused on the noisy show playing on the hextech screen and Janna takes a quick peek at the colorful cartoon characters that seem to be dancing and singing just to confirm that Annie isn't watching anything inappropriate.

"I've brought you some apple pie.."

The Dark Child remains silent, the cartoons on the glowing hextech screen keep dancing and singing and shouting. Janna awkwardly runs the fingers of her right hand against her flowing golden trenches.

"Annie.. I am going to eat this apple pie myself if you don't really want it.."

Janna exaggeratedly slices and then stabs a small piece of apple pie with her fork before raising the eating utensil towards her lips threateningly. Nothing. Annie once again blatantly ignores her.

The blonde support sighs as she slowly places the plate on the table in front of the brooding fire mage and gently places a soothing hand against the small rigid shoulder of the moody Dark Child.

"I am sorry for coming here so late- Annie?!" Sky blue eyes abruptly widen in alarm when the motionless toddler before her suddenly slides across the lilac-colored couch like a lifeless puppet whose strings have been cut. Janna instantly stops floating and kneels beside the little fire mage, her usually calm kind eyes now overflowing with anxiety and fear.

The blonde support doesn't notice the weird texture of the child's skin at first. Oh no, Janna is entirely too focused on Annie's dull soulless gaze and her complete lack of motion to wonder about the hard texture of the Dark Child's skin. And she is also too busy checking the small toddler for injuries to pay attention to the ominous sound of the front door slowly creaking shut behind her. But that unfortunately doesn't last long and so Janna soon feels the suffocating silence of the room spreading under the humorous dialogues of the cartoon characters that are currently staring at her from their colorful glowing perch inside the hextech device.

The living room now feels like a prison, the closed doors of the apartment like deadly traps with dangerous beasts lying in wait behind them. Janna soon realizes what's wrong with Annie's skin. It is its texture. The Dark Child's skin is smooth to the touch, but also cold and hard like some kind of ceramic or porcelain. Janna's gaze climbs on the Annie-doll's eyes and the painted green marbles that seemingly return her stare causing Janna's blood to suddenly turn to ice.

The wind mage is trembling, eyes wide open helplessly staring at the lifeless and motionless Annie-doll. Janna starts taking deep shaky breathes while she tries to force herself to calm down. The cartoon characters are laughing hysterically. Mere seconds later and the hyperventilating wind mage somehow finds herself staring at the porcelain doll's rigid hands and her gaze is for some reason drawn to its pale open fingers.

Janna's breathing is a ragged noisy mess, still knelt next to the lifeless Annie-doll the agitated wind mage silently contemplates why those pale empty hands evoke such strong feelings of terror in her. And then she realizes it. Tibbers, Annie's favorite toy and eternal companion in all kind of childish adventures is currently missing.

"Hello Janna." Annie's voice giggles from somewhere behind the startled wind mage, but it is not vibrant green eyes that meet Janna's scared gaze when the horrified blonde female abruptly turns to face the speaker. Because the thing has no real gaze for Janna to meet, only an ugly patch of thick brown strings crossed to form a small x on one empty eye socket and a tiny red button to serve as an eye on the other one. The doomed wind mage screams, her frightened voice smothered by the mindless giggling of the dancing cartoon characters as the sentient teddy bear slowly approaches her.

…

"Janna?"

"Hmm?"

The kind wind mage smiles as she turns to face her Demacian teammate and Lux seems puzzled for a moment before she offers the other blonde mage a playful smile.

"Nothing, you just seemed lost in your thoughts and I wanted to make sure that everything's alright."

The Zaunite spell caster doesn't reply to her, but the support's smile widens as her gaze lowers to the small brown toy clutched in her hands. Her delicate pale fingers casually stroking the teddy bear's fur absentmindedly.

"Everything is alright. Everything is… perfect."

Lux merely raises a thin eyebrow before she just shrugs and leaves, heading for the mid lane. The faded painted eyes of Janna's glare intently follow the young Demacian for a couple of seconds before the pale blonde porcelain puppet is forced to abandon the magical fountain. Tibbers small form still held between pulse-less fingers.

The End

* * *

 **Writer's notes: A friend of mine and I were recently discussing horror game plots and that reminded me of the trailer of a movie that's called 'The boy'. Now, I haven't watched or will ever attempt watching the movie, but the puppet in the trailer is still giving me the creeps every time I recall of the trailer. So anyways, I remembered the trailer and jokingly said to my friend: Imagine if Annie was actually the real puppet and Tibbers was the one controlling her body instead of the other way around in secret. A few days later and I am trying to write something more family friendly than torture and lemons so I end up writing about soul-stealing dolls, identity theft and sentient creepy teddy bears that get away with murder…**

 **… Wait a minute, that's not family friendly either! Damn.. Er.. Tibbers is stealing all of those souls in order to keep his half-brother Volibear alive when the white bear suddenly goes into a coma. He kills people out of love, because he is not the brother Volibear deserves, but the teddy bear he needs.**

 **Optional: you can listen to 'How to save a life' from The Fray, read the story again and imagine Tibbers crying while killing Janna and Annie to turn this story into angst. Annie is Tibbers' only friend, but he has to save Voli Onii-chan! But secretly Voli is a hit-bear and he has tricked Tibbers into taking care of his contracts.**

 **"I trusted you!" Tibbers screams at the top of his nonexistent lungs as his cotton paws rise towards the bloody sky.**

 **"KUkukukukuku." Was Volibear Onii-chan's only response as he presses a paw against the hilt of his black katana. "You are foolish, oh half-brother of mine. Don't you know that the salmon is always tastier at the other riverbank?!"**

 **Tibbers just frantically shakes his head as his Annie and Janna-dolls move to stand before him. A thunder splits the sky and the clouds start crying as if to accentuate and convey the small brown teddy bear's immense sorrow.**

 **"This is where you are wrong Volibear Onii-Chan." Tibbers can't really cry, but the first raindrop that rolls down his soft cotton face could as well have been a bitter tear of disappointment. "The salmon can only taste worse when there is blood staining your paws. It gets coppery! Crimson! _And salty!"_**

 **The black Katana darts out of its sheath as the champion-dolls lunge at the enraged white bear and the sky flashes red as the ground around the fighters shatters and the scene disappears.**

 **…**

 **…**

 **And a hidden red teddy bear with familiar bright green eyes is calmly watching the exchange from the scope of its hextech sniper rifle. The barrel of the gun briefly switches between the two bear brothers before Annie grins and suddenly pulls the iron trigger.**

 **Bang!**


	26. Unused Hunter's scene 2

**Tags: Quinn, Vayne, Slight Yuri, Drama, Supernatural. Beta Reader: Gmp1000  
**

* * *

Karma certainly didn't feel overwhelmed very often. Being one of the wisest and most spiritually attuned people to ever grace the fertile soils of Ionia, if not all of Valoran had its perks. Her spiritual state tended to cultivate a tranquil mind and a strong heart capable of overcoming any challenge thrown in one's way and the Duchess' uncanny ability to gaze into the very nature of one's existence only seemed to further fortify the Ionian diplomat's mental fortitude. Causing the Enlightened One's perception of the world to sometimes transcend the poor limitations of the mortal realm that grounded lesser men and women.

An Oracle and a scholar, a pacifist and a public figure, a noble life blooming under the bloodied strife of the Noxian invasion of Ionia. The Enlightened One possessed a pure disciplined soul that endlessly radiated hope and determination.

And yet Karma's resolve was to be tested that fateful day. Her proud heart booming inside her ribcage even as her gaze remained calm and unfaltering, the Ionian Duchess intelligent brown eyes locked on the dark brooding figure of the one called the Night Hunter.

Karma shouldn't really be that surprised of course. The Ionia spiritualist had long since known of the traitorous darkness swirling around the tormented soul of the solitary vampire. The tainted black mist following the cursed huntress threatening to devour her very soul the moment Shauna would happen to let her guard down. But the hungry dark void she was witnessing oozing off the Demacian woman today felt entirely.. different. Where once existed black mist now swirled black clouds, covering Shauna's imminent surroundings in a thick blanket of nearly impermeable liquid darkness. The malice and hate previously locked inside the deepest corners of the noble vampire's mind and heart now flowing freely out of Shauna's pores in spiraling ebony torrents, dripping anger, leaking despair and spitting out other previously oppressed negative emotions that threatening to hide the sunlight and replace the oxygen in the air.

The dark flood was absolutely terrifying, its unseen swirls almost scaring off the most empathic of champions with their astounding intensity. Karma had already spotted Sona hurriedly leaving the crowded hallway, her usually compassionate gaze suddenly filled with terror and confusion after reluctantly walking next to Vayne.

The vast majority of the Institute's champions didn't seem to notice the black dreadful mist however. The legendary heroes of the League blatantly ignored its very existence as they casually strolled down the corridor and through the aura of dread, without even pausing to spare a single glance at the silent vampire leaning against the stone wall of the crowded hallway.

Karma remains silent, her gaze still locked on the Night Hunter, not even daring to blink as a part of the mist seems to thicken and solidify forming an exact replica of Vayne, complete with flowing wispy black hair and red merciless eyes staring at her quietly as if challenging her with its bloodthirsty glare. And the Ionian duchess has to bite her lips and remind herself that she is currently standing in a corridor under the protection of the Institute surrounded by magical beings and Summoners of immense power and not in an shady cemetery in the heart of the Shadow Isles as another misty dark figure seems to practically detach itself from the black hungry mist only to remain hovering over the solitary pale huntress' shoulder.

This particular shade is smaller, cruder and unrefined and Karma somehow recognizes it as a shard of the Eternal Nightmare, glaring at her silently through milky white eyes full of malice. The Enlightened One swallows trying to ease the sudden lump formed in her throat, her mouth abruptly dry as she takes a step forward towards the quiet, brooding figure of the infamous Night Hunter. An ancient mantra already leaving her full lips as the olive green tattoos inscribed around her left leg and back abruptly come to life, flaring green with mana and spiritual torrents of jade-colored energy.

Vayne, the real Vayne, not the angry shade currently seething in anger by her side, slowly turns and looks at her confusingly, her scarlet glasses perched on her forehead for once, revealing the cold crimson eyes of the vampire. The silver-tipped crossbow bolt loaded on her trusty wrist bow still aimed towards the floor for the time being.

Karma takes another threatening step forward and Vayne's eyes suddenly narrow dangerously. The fallen huntress is not actually a spell caster per se, but the Demacian noblewoman has long since learned to read the subtle signs of focused mana distribution and so she can somewhat recognize the unnatural flow of magical energies powering most offensive spells. An unknown, but necessary skill Vayne had been forced to pick up during her countless and almost fatal hunts for lawless shady cultists and evil witches preying on innocent civilians.

Another step and Vayne kicks off the stone wall and turns completely towards the mage in order to face the frowning Ionian female, a silver bolt casually slipping through the loading mechanism of her wrist bow and… is that another shade coming into existence? This one is similar and yet completely different from the other two. Its presence almost forces the Ionian woman to her knees. This shade is horrifying. Powerful and at least as ancient as the cruel Nocturne, the Eternal Nightmare himself.

The newly formed Shade smiles at her, that too bearing the pale visage of Shauna Vayne, but Karma is sure that its true form is quite different. A demon. No! A god of chaos is currently residing within the tormented Night Hunter, following the fallen Demacian noblewoman around for reasons unknown to the currently speechless Ionian Duchess. Karma feels her heartbeat momentary stop and the blood abruptly draining from her face as the first shade, the Shard of Nocturne and the Chaos God hovering behind the perplexed Demacian vampire just keep staring at her, a different inhuman emotion flaring behind each pair of lifeless eyes even as Vayne gazes at her curiously. A peculiar mix of confused agitation clearly evident on Shauna's pale frowning face.

"Karma, did Vayne do something to insult you? You are glaring at her as if you are about to slap her or something."

The Ionian Duchess almost jumps in fright, her slender neck nearly snapping as she instantly whips her head towards the voice of the curious newcomer with the speed of a spooked yordle. Gold and Blue garbs, compassionate amber eyes, another Demacian champion, Quinn is staring at her questionably.

"No…"

The word leaves her lips before Karma even considers the scout's question and Quinn smiles in relief, happily nodding at the wise Ionian duchess.

"That's good, I have to go now. I wish you have a pleasant evening Duchess."

"Yes, you too."

The polite response comes naturally to the Enlightened One's lips as Karma absentmindedly nods at Quinn with the ease of an accomplished ambassador that has evolved etiquette into an actual form of art. The Ionian's grim thoughts are still occupied by the dark swirling entities hovering around the Night Hunter even as Quinn nods and happily strides towards the invisible Chaos God, the two unseen shade demons and the visible pale and currently frowning vampiric noblewoman. Karma unfortunately proves too slow to stop the unsuspecting brunette girl from reaching the shades and the humanoid beast. Her dark-skinned hand shoots out and almost succeeds in grabbing the scout's wrist, whistling next to the other woman's sleeve before Quinn passes her by and smiles at the glaring Night Hunter.

"Hey, Shauna. You didn't have to wait for me long now did you?"

Karma's eyes widen in terror. The black-haired woman instantly whips her head towards the obviously angry vampire and the young Demacian ranger. Meanwhile the dormant magical power previously gathered around the Ionian Duchess' hands flares before diming and then fading completely as the distraction of Quinn's appearance unwittingly disturbs the Enlightened One's concentration causing the incomplete spell to harmlessly dissipate before forming before Karma's fingertips. The Enlightened One's heartbeat briefly stops when Karma realizes that this bitter failure has probably sealed the poor brunette woman's fate.

"No, I just got here."

Karma blinks once and then twice, her head tilting in a rare display of confusion. Because when Quinn reaches the moody vampire, the shroud of black mist surrounding Vayne suddenly seems to fade and the inky veil of dread abruptly weakens. The bloodthirsty mirror-shade of the pale vampire smiles kindly and then leans down to press a chaste kiss against Quinn's aura before disappearing completely. The fragment of the Eternal Nightmare explodes while screaming in hate and agony and the mysterious Chaos God swiftly retreats back inside Vayne's soul after sending the Enlightened One a small wink and a sly grin that exposes Shauna's pearly white fangs, the fake vampire's teeth aimed straight at her shocked visage like miniature ivory daggers. Karma has to practically force herself to gather her wits and somehow remind herself to keep inhaling and breathing.

The facial muscles of the actual Night Hunter stretch and twitch as the cursed black-haired woman leisurely approaches the innocent scout, the edges of her ruby lips subtly shifting with each lazy step as they struggle to form a faint… smile. Vayne is actually smiling at the young Demacian ranger. Shauna Vayne is smiling. Karma quietly wonders if she is just seeing things. Were the toxic fumes produced by Singed's underground lab experiments capable of reaching all the way to the surface and the common areas? Shouldn't they all be dead then by now?

"Let's go. I want to buy some bird snacks for Valor as a birthday present." The Demacian scout smiles as sun-kissed fingers gently wrap around a pale vampiric palm and Karma's raised eyebrows soon disappear beneath her black hairline when the dark malevolent aura that's always siphoning around Vayne dims even more before shifting.. subconsciously retreating as to avoid touching the brunette ranger's soft and warm appendage.

"Sure, if that means that your damn bird will finally stop pecking at my exposed fingertips..." The grinning Night Hunter grunts and the Enlightened One's eyes instantly turn the size of saucers when the huntress and the ranger casually stroll away from the dark crowded hallway and the empty summoning chambers and into the warm gentle sunlight of the Institute gardens.

Vayne doesn't seem bothered by it. She just keeps walking forward, the faint barely visible traces of the previously suffocating dark flood of negative energies now acting as some sort of dense barrier, shielding the crimson-eyed huntress from the warm golden rays of the sunlight.

Karma slowly swallows once more, the Enlightened One's throat suddenly dry. A shadow demon, a fragment of an ancient terror and a powerful chaos god, all of them inhabiting the soul of the same broken vampire. A broken vampire that can obviously walk under the sunlight and harbors feelings for a sweet innocent Demacian woman.

The Ionian's alarmed gaze keeps following the two young Demacian women as they slowly head for the town surrounding the Institute, the black unseen beacon that represents Vayne's soul still visible to only her own wide brown eyes. The faint glimmer of light encased in the black vile mist suddenly burns with blinding intensity when Vayne abruptly wraps one possessive arm around Quinn's shoulder blades. Karma can actually feel the red eyes of the mad god returning her glare from Shauna's turned back and the Ionian Duchess finds herself praying that no harm will ever come to the Demacian ranger that's keeping Vayne's darkness at bay. Or all of Valoran was certainly doomed.

* * *

 **Writer's Notes: Another unused scene from the Hunters series. This one refers to one of the possible endings where something happens to Vayne and she is stuck with multiple entities chained to her soul. Vayne uses her body and soul as a cage of sorts in order to contain the entities and protect the ones she loves.**


	27. Love is a Bad Medicine

**Tags: Yuri, Lux, Evelynn, Drama? Complete absence of wards and a missing jungler. Luxanna is also refusing to buy armor items.**

* * *

Luxanna Crownguard sleepily smiles in utter bliss, her thoughts still slow and clouded by the thick fog that lingers inside one's mind after a good night's rest as she lazily shifts under the expensive linen covers. She unconsciously presses her back against the familiar warm body lying behind her and not even a moment later a pair of exotic blue-skinned arms instantly coils around her waist pulling her even closer to her possessive and dangerous assassin.

"Good morning."

The sleepy Demacian mage murmurs as she basks in her lover's warmth, humming in contentment as Evelynn slightly leans to kiss a handful of her golden blonde trenches.

"Mmm… good morning to you too."

The Widowmaker whispers in a quiet voice, husky from sleep and the previous night's excitement as a pale delicate hand slowly lowers to squeeze one of the blue-skinned woman's palms affectionately. Evelynn grins against Luxanna's golden trenches.

"Did you sleep well?"

The blonde light mage subtly nods with her eyes still closed and she then hums softly for good measure in case Evelynn is also dozing off right now and so the assassin may not be able to detect her soundless response.

"That's good. I wouldn't want my little sprite to be tormented by nightmares."

The Demacian noblewoman smiles at the mention of Evelynn's nickname for her, the light mage's thumb working small loving circles across the assassin's smooth powerful hand. Luxanna used to have a lot of nightmares as a child. Their contents varied from old memories of her training as a mage to disappointing Garen or people finding out about her sexual preferences towards women and shunning her. And yet, none of those fears held any power over her at the current moment.

There were very few things that could be considered more frightening, or exciting for that matter than dating a mysterious assassin hailing from the eerie and deadly continent of the cursed Shadow Isles after all. The arms around her waist give Luxanna a gentle squeeze, Evelynn's breath pleasantly ghosting against the light mage's pale ear.

'You're overthinking things again little sprite. Sometimes you just need to let go and enjoy the moment you know."

The noblewoman shivers as Evelynn lazily places two digits against the light mage's chin and presses her lips against the smiling blonde fairy's. Luxanna moans as the assassin suddenly bites her lower lip, the once gentle arms embracing her lethargic form abruptly turning into twin blue fleshly shackles, trapping the light mage close to the faintly blushing Widowmaker. Luxanna Crownguard freezes.

Blue eyes meet red as Evelynn deepens the kiss until the blonde mage's eyelids flutter undecidedly before suddenly closing. _What was that?_ The cunning Demacian woman wonders as she moans under the Widowmaker's affectionate assault. _Why would Luxanna suddenly feel so uncomfortable while holding the beautiful blue-skinned woman's gaze?_

"Stop troubling yourself with useless thoughts, my love. Just let go, relax and enjoy the moment."

The agitated Widowmaker growls as sharp fingernails slowly start sliding towards the light mage's core and Luxanna is mildly surprised and extremely confused when she finds herself feeling more dread than excitement flooding her being as a result of the affectionate assassin's aggressive caresses. The Demacian noble's heartbeat accelerates, her eyebrows furrow in thought, Luxanna's eyes are shut as the young light mage tries to place the ominous feeling growing inside her chest and so the blonde woman doesn't notice the frustrated expression occupying the Widowmaker's serious face.

"Stop thinking about bad things my love."

 _A rusty broken sword lays shattered before a dirty marble gravestone, prudish capital letters spelling the name of her deceased dear sibling._

"Keep thinking about them and you will probably have nightmares again. Now, we wouldn't like that, would we?"

 _What kind of nightmares? Unique and bizarre ones like the images of the Shadow Isles' undead armies marching against them and preparing for war or the horrifying dreams of the burning capital and Demacia's crumbling buildings? What had even happened to Garen after that? Luxanna hadn't actually met her oafish older brother for several long years._

"Lux, are you listening to me my love? You're starting to worry me."

The beast in the human skin utters behind her back and when sky blue eyes slowly open they can finally see the blue-skinned woman for what she truly is: A murderer, a monster, an assassin, a butcher. Luxanna's very own captor and jailer…

Exotic red eyes suddenly narrow when they examine Luxanna's horrified glare and the strong blue-skinned arms wrapped around the young light mage's petite body instantly tighten their hold before Evelynn sighs in clear exasperation.

"I think it's time for your medicine Miss Crownguard."

The Shadow Isles denizen growls at the frightened light mage trapped inside her arms and Luxanna might just be imagining things, but she thinks she may have caught an undertone of pain and bitterness coloring the cruel and merciless blue-skinned assassin's solemn voice.

The End

* * *

 **Notes: Have you ever suddenly felt the urge to write romantic interactions between Lux and Evelynn? It happened to me yesterday (or the day before that, I can't really remember) and this is what happened. There wasn't any major plotline behind the story, but I will explain the premise since a reviewer in another story revealed that I might not be that good in portraying characters' incentives. Some of the stories are intentionally vague because imagining what happens next or why something happened at all might be fun for some people by the way. The Shadow Isles waged war vs the world and defeated Demacia. Evelynn takes an Interest in Lux and feeds her a love potion to make her more obedient and toy with the mage. But the Widowmaker slowly starts developing feelings for Lux, she wants to be with her but has no choice but to keep giving her the love potion when Lux's memories start resurfacing. Eve is sad and bitter because she wants Luxanna to love her genuinely, but that is impossible and so she lives in the small tender moments where Lux thinks that she loves her. The title of the chapter was inspired by Bon Jovi's song and I kept it because Evelynn referred to the potion as Luxanna's medicine. Any thoughts?**


	28. Reflections

**Tags: Lissandra, Ashe**

* * *

"This world is done for, the Frozen Watchers will soon return and when they do they will bury this world in ice."

Ashe shakes her head, defiant sky blue orbs glaring at Lissandra's equally cold blue eyes.

"You are wrong. You will never win this war Lissandra. Not as long as **I** am here to stop you."

The Ice Witch scoffs, but she doesn't turn her back on the Frost Archer. Her pale ivory visage filled with nothing but malice and contempt.

"And what can a weakling like you do? You are not a leader Ashe, but merely a child playing with its bows and arrows."

The Frost Archer smiles, a small tug on the lips of an otherwise emotionless frigid face.

"That makes two of us then."

LIssandra growls at her and the Ice Witch is about to retort when a loud knock on the door makes her pause as one of her armor-clad soldiers abruptly enters the icy chamber.

"Your army is ready my Queen, we will be marching against the Winter's Claw the moment you give us the order."

The pale woman's smile widens.

"I see, now return back to your post."

The soldier salutes before he departs and the future queen of the Freljord is left alone with her thoughts and the company of the quiet Frost Archer.

"You will never win this war, Lissandra. **We** can never win as long as the other one is still alive."

The Avarosan princess lowly whispers at her smirking foe and Ashe merely scoffs as she averts her gaze from the black mirror and her reflection and puts on her imposing black eyeless helmet.

"This is but a battle. I've already won the war."

The Frost Archer muses as she gracefully glides against her black ice shards. Lissandra just smirks at her from inside the dark empty mirror.

"But so have I."

* * *

 **Author's notes: What if Lissandra and Ashe were the same person and different personalities inhabiting the same body? What if the Ice Witch is Ashe wearing a black helmet and using her ice powers more aggressively? Interesting thought even if the lore denies that possibility. I dropped a lot of hints in the text like their similarities and the fact that Ashe smiles, but Lissandra's smile is the one that widens when she learns that her armies are ready. Did you figure it out? Did you enjoy the mind games?**


	29. Two Noxians one sausage

**Tags: Yuri, Riven, Katarina, Lux.**

 **Beta Reader: Gmp1000**

* * *

Riven gulps, she flinches and coughs. She tries to remain silent, unyielding even as she tries to brave Katarina's emerald glare and the scrutinizing gaze the redhead assassin is currently giving her. No, not to her, the Noxian warrior abruptly realizes with some amount of embarrassment, Katarina is staring at her… at her sausage.

"Kat?"

The redhead assassin blatantly ignores her, Katarina's far too eager gaze still locked on the poor lump of warm meat as a crimson tongue suddenly darts out of the redhead's mouth and makes to water the plump full lips of the deadly assassin. Meanwhile the naked Noxian swordswoman quivers uncomfortably.

"Kat?"

Riven is really starting sweating now under the intense emerald gaze of her dear girlfriend. Katarina refuses to answer, glance or even acknowledge the anxious Exile's existence, merely staring and staring and staring, hungrily gazing at Riven's giant bulging sausage.

"Ahem!"

The snow-haired warrior finally dares to take a deep breath and try to calm her tattered nerves, unsure ruby eyes still glued on the seemingly mesmerized redhead assassin that merely keep glaring at her poor, poor sausage. _Gods this is scary_ , Riven is so scared and nervous that she can't even flee now that Katarina finally knows her deepest and darkest, most embarrassing secret. _Is Kat going to break up with her?_ The trembling Exile quietly wonders, _will her girlfriend laugh at her like nurse Akali did after the Ionian female had learned her secret?_

 _Will her girlfriend yell insults at her and point at the offending lump of warm meat in front of her and choose to spread the swordswoman's secret beyond the walls of the Institute?_

Is Riven's first ever romantic experience going to abruptly end because of that hidden part the white-haired Noxian warrior had kept to herself for so long?

Is her crush going to deny her after Riven had finally found the courage to reveal her secret to the beautiful redhead blueblood? Will their relationship end because of a single bulging big sausage?

The redhead assassin suddenly blinks and shakes her head in order to chase away the swirling torrent of her thoughts before she carefully reaches for the plump piece of meat, her striking jade-colored eyes never once leaving the white-haired swordswoman's anxious gaze. Kat harshly grabs the other Noxian's sausage. Riven cringes and then flinches as her girlfriend lazily grasps the plump rod and then tentatively runs her tongue against the red swollen surface of its bulk before gently biting at its thick end teasingly.

"Hmp, not bad." The redhead assassin murmurs with her full lips still pressed against Riven's meat. "Not bad at all, my little snow bunny."

The exiled warrior just sighs in sweet relief, an action that draws a tiny smirk from the Noxian assassin even as Riven smiles at her girlfriend and opts to serve her a hearty helping of omelet.

"See? I told you that I was a good cook, but nooo, you can't have a girly hobby if you are a Noxian badass or a former military commander."

The exiled warrior states in a mocking tone of voice causing the redhead to grumble something under her breath before Katarina sighs and wisely chooses to aim her fork at the tasty remains of her food instead of her infuriatingly smug girlfriend. _Maybe that wasn't the right choice after all_ , Katarina silently ponders as Riven continues to complain for her girlfriend's previous lack of faith in her culinary skills. The redhead merely rolls her eyes in exasperation.

"Ok, ok, I get it. You can cook! I admit that I was wrong, alright? No reason to be a dick Riven!"

And so the Noxian assassin would soon start craving Riven's juicy and tender meat and Katarina would ask for it at almost every morning or whenever they would eat at the mess hall resulting in various amusing responses and blushing misunderstandings from their confused friends or scandalized fellow champions.

Extra: Corrupting the innocent/ A tale of revenge.

It was another great day at the Institute, the birds were chirping and the sun was shining high in the sky, Yasuo was nerfed to the ground and Ranked queues were disabled since no Summoner wanted to play anything other than a squishy assassin with no useful abilities and crowd control spells. Garen was currently eating his breakfast in the crowded mess hall while his beloved sister Lux was gossiping with her friends a few seats farther away from the kind juggernaut. The fact that Luxanna was _so far away_ from him greatly saddened Garen, but he was a mighty Demacian warrior of course and so Garen would silently endure this unspeakable cruel torment. His beautiful dear sister was entitled to the thirty or thirty-five minutes she could spent every day out of his hands' reach after all.

"Yes, I have noticed! I had already heard the rumors about Riven having the biggest sword in the entire League, but who would have known that her meat would be that tasty and appetizing! That woman is certainly full of surprises I am telling you."

Garen begins coughing as he starts spluttering milk and cereal, Demacian cereal, Jarvan's chocolate crater o's if you really want to know. His wide bulging eyes instantly dart to the speaker and a smiling Ahri merely winks at him before she turns back to her friends and his beloved sister.

"I know right? I didn't expect a Noxian warrior to have such an embarrassing secret either. I couldn't help myself and so I started laughing at poor Riven when she tried feeding me her meat one day. She almost had to force the damn thing into my mouth, but I definitely enjoyed it afterwards. It was kind of cute since Riven kept fidgeting and blushing the whole time."

Akali comments and Garen almost passes out when his sister instantly bobs her head excitedly. A cold merciless hand grips the Demacian warrior's heart when Luxanna's lips slowly start forming an innocent happy smile.

"I know right! I just can't have enough of her juicy Noxian sausage!"

Lux happily responds, her words echoing inside Garen's head as the light in the juggernaut's eyes fades and the color drains from his face. The Demacian warrior's heart shatters.

"Excuse me."

The Might of Demacia slowly utters before standing up from his seat and stumbling away from Luxanna like a walking corpse. The seething juggernaut then stomps out of the mess hall, angry eyes searching for a particular Noxian scum that stole his beloved sibling's innocence and defiled Luxanna's honor.

Riven is going to pay for this! Garen vows to himself, he swears it on his sister's beaming white smile! The Demacian warrior then sniffles as he imagines his dear Luxy being fed enormous Noxian sausages. Damn you Riven!

Meanwhile a confused light mage is silently staring at the open door of the mess hall, utterly perplexed by her brother's sudden departure. Did Garen have something against the consumption of meat? Lux had no idea that her older brother wanted to become a vegetarian. Gods then their little talk just now must have been quite uncomfortable.

* * *

 **This story was a writing exercise at using misdirection… That's my excuse, in reality I just wanted to make up funny titles for the chapter. And now for your own enjoyment I present to you the alternative titles for the chapter:**

 **My ideas: Riven and the big sausage, They dig the Noxian meat, Everybody wants Riven's sausage, Two mid laner buns and a Noxian sausage. Making a Noxian sandwich with Riven, Riven's big BIG secret! A bulging suspicion, Riven's juicy secret revealed. What am I doing with my life? Please send help…  
**

 **Gmp's Ideas: Nice meat, for a Noxian. Breaking Bulge, Juicy indulgence, Breakfast Banger! The Meat Log, The Meat Locker, Nice to Meat You.**


	30. Revelations

**Tags: Morgana, Sona, Yuri.**

* * *

The first time it happened was during an official League match the outcome of which would influence the prices of imported Ionian spices and tea leaves and the tax the Ionian merchants would have to pay whenever entering a Noxian market. Morgana and Caitlyn, the bottom lane of their team were cleaning up the remaining strugglers of a particularly bloody skirmish. Three fifths of both teams were already dead and waiting to respawn with Caitlyn, Morgana, Sona and Draven being the only survivors left, all of them fighting to the bitter end just to settle the match's fateful conclusion.

Draven suddenly roars, his spinning axes already flying straight for the Sheriff's head, lethal bullets and magical bolts harmlessly bouncing off Sona's emerald shields as Morgana abruptly moves in and hurls a Dark Binding towards the young Ionian musician… only for the vile hex to harmlessly dissipate mere inches away from the puzzled Ionian spell caster. A flabbergasted look and her laning partner's muffled curse are the last things the corrupted celestial witch registers before a barrage of spells and spinning blades abruptly sends her back in the safety of her fountain.

…

The second time the phenomenon occurred was very similar to the first one. Morgana was laning mid against the mute musician. Spells and hexes were exchanged like bouquets and flowers at weddings, magical bolts of shadow and light riddling the majority of mid lane with black smoking craters. Both mages were so far even at best, but with their health points and mana reserves severely depleted.

A sudden soundless ping and the corrupted celestial's Summoner informs the dark witch of her ally's imminent arrival, the Summoner's thoughts magically transmitted to the corrupted angel and Morgana cruelly smirks at the prospect of ambushing Sona with the help of her jungler.

The mute spell caster merely raises a confused eyebrow as she spots the Fallen Angel's evil grin, but she then simply strums her delicate fingers on a golden string and the bounty of another minion is added to the blue-haired sorceress' considerable budget.

The minute distraction of Sona gracefully gliding to last hit another melee minion is all the opportunity the crafty Fallen Angel needs to signal Rengar that's currently hiding in the bush as the two champions quickly descend upon the unsuspecting Ionian spell caster. The jungler opens the fight with a Smite and a simultaneous stab at the startled healer before he deftly throws his bola at the mute musician, but unfortunately misses for just a second when Sona instantly Flashes away from them.

But the Ionian spell caster had already been low on health before the skirmish had even began and so Morgana smiles as she hurls one of her favorite curses towards the fleeing mute musician. A vile curse that makes the ground beneath a target start boiling and the air around it turn into a poisonous miasma.

Morgana's victorious smile soon shatters when her Tormented Soil spell abruptly causes the ground underneath her floating opponent to start blooming and springing colorful flowers. The Fallen Angel can only stare at the flowers in confusion and shock as her wide purple eyes intently observe the blossoming red and white roses. The Fallen Angel blinks and ignores Rengar's angry yells as she slowly kneels to touch the soft delicate petals of a still closed crimson rosebud. She then raises her gaze and meets the eyes of her lane opponent that's hesitantly floating near her tower and the smile forming on the corrupted celestial's lips is anything but fake or sinister. Morgana _knows_ that she has finally found her fated soulmate, why else would her magic refuse to harm the mute musician?

* * *

 **Notes: This story explores one of the musings that occurred to me while contemplating writing some other soulmate stories. What if the soulmates' bond affected the ones connected by it in a much deeper level and even interfered with their magic? What if celestial soulmates are affected differently by the bond than mortal ones? I picked Morgana to highlight the unintended changes happening to her dark spells, good-natured spells are impossible for her after her Fall and yet Sona's presence almost restores Morgana's celestial powers. Sona seemed like an interesting pairing for Morg and b** **oth of them are also a bit unpopular so let's add some champion diversity to the stories.**


	31. An Eye for an Eye

**The continuation of the previous one-shot.**

 **Tags: Morgana, Sona, Kayle.**

* * *

"So.. great weather huh?"

Sona raises her eyes from her plate and offers Morgana a little nod before returning her attention back to her slice of apple pie, a thunder echoes somewhere outside of the crowded mess hall and the Fallen Angel cringes before she offers the mute musician another friendly smile.

"Well, it isn't exactly great, but rain is cleansing and... eh good. It washes away the dirt and nurtures beautiful flowers. Normal flowers I mean, not poisonous ones used for hexes and dark magic of course! I-I wouldn't know anything about those!"

Another uninterested nod, Sona forks another piece of apple pie and then passes it between her full ruby lips and Morgana tries to maintain her cheery expression as she desperately wishes for the ground beneath her to burst open and Runeterra to swallow her. Swallow her whole, much like how Sona happily devours her little bites of apple pie. Is it pathetic to feel jealous of a confection for stealing her soulmate's attention from her person?

Think Morgana! Think! How do you usually do this? Where is your sultry nature when you need it?! What would your friends do if they were in your place?

Ahri would downright try seducing the mute sorceress…

Evelynn would start stalking her and probably go through her belongings…

Elise would try bondage play and make some indecent remark about devouring Sona's body like a fly caught in her webs…

The Fallen Angel knows that she leads a sad and pitiful existence when Ahri's approach seems like the best choice at the celestial spell caster's disposal.

The corrupted angel's smile widens as a pale hand suddenly darts to rest on top of the hand of the mute Ionian woman.

"But you know the most beautiful flower of them all is currently sitting right in front of me."  
Sona finally blinks before she meets the corrupted mage's eyes, she then lets her gaze wander across the company of champions entering the mess hall and smiles at Morgana politely, understanding. The former celestial happily sighs in sweet relief, finally some bloody progress!

And then Sona quietly collects her plate and nods encouragingly at someone standing behind the angel's back and the mute musician is swiftly replaced by a very perplexed Zyra.

"Thanks Morg, but you didn't have to make Sona leave like that, I could have easily found somewhere else to enjoy my meal."

The Fallen Angel grumbles something rude under her breath as she plants her forehead on the hard oaken table completely missing the azure celestial orbs of her older sibling that is currently observing her from the other side of the mess hall.

* * *

0000

Kayle's eyes narrow in suspicion. Her sister had unsuccessfully been trying to mingle with the mute support all week now and the proud Judicator would be damned if she would let such a nice and kindhearted woman be corrupted by the wiles of her vile sister. But still one thing greatly confused the righteous celestial warrior. Why would Morgana be so interested in the compassionate mute songstress?

Sona's magic was certainly potent and raw as much as any of the Institute's other powerful spell casters and yet there was no malicious intent hidden in it. No poisonous or eroding effects intending to harm someone and definitely no impressive destructive power behind Sona's spells potent enough to justify Morgana wanting to include the mute's spells in her already extremely volatile and dangerous magical arsenal.

Was there some kind of secret behind the mute musician's magic perhaps? Did Sona actually possess another hidden twisted side, a dark rotten core obscured behind her kind persona and caring smiling visage that her vile sister had somehow managed to uncover?

Could that really be the reason Morgana had been running behind the Ionian musician like a love-stricken puppy? Surely Kayle would have caught wind of Sona's ploy if that had actually really been the case.

So what was it then? Why would her evil corrupted sister keep wearing those infuriating coy smiles and desperately try to converse with the kindhearted woman that so tragically lacked the gift of speech? Why would Morgana patiently wait outside of the summoning chambers after a match to ambush Sona in the hallways, or always _happen_ to be walking by the gentle blue-haired support with a big sickening smile perched on her lips and her torn blackened wings twitching nervously behind her?!

And speaking of Morgana's wings.. Weren't her sister's burned feathers supposed to be a much darker shade of black? They definitely shouldn't seem almost a plain grey under the currently scarce sunlight. The Fallen Angel's feathers had used to look as black and sinister as the twisted heart of the corrupted spell caster itself not even a week ago.

…In fact now that the Judicator was carefully thinking about it her cursed sister's feathers were certainly _still_ that vile onyx black! Their color just seemed to lighten a little bit whenever the Fallen was making a fool of herself around Sona… !

* * *

0000

"Morg.."

The corrupted celestial sighs, soft lilac orbs practically glued on the form of a particular smiling blue-haired woman that's presently surrounded by Demacian champions happily enjoying their breakfasts.

"Morgana?"

Another sigh, the Fallen Angel releases an exhausted breath against the palm of the hand she is using to support her chin's weight and Evelynn shoots her daydreaming friend an annoyed look before the stealthy assassin's gaze silently follows the dark witch's line of sight.

"Don't even bother Eve, Morgana is currently observing her prey."

The Widowmaker's crimson orbs lazily move to stare back into Ahri's amber glare and the blue-skinned assassin hailing from the Shadow Isles merely responds by raising a single eyebrow in question.

"Morg is examining Sona's habits and noting the musician's weaknesses you see. One of those nights Morgana is going to suddenly ambush the Ionian orphan in the empty dark hallways of the Institute and trap the songstress against the wall. Sona will look at Morg in surprise, mute lips will part attempting to mouth a heart-wrenching plea, the musician's blue eyes suddenly overflowing with frightened tears, but Morgana will have none of it!

She will want to show her prey her angelic superiority and so she will use her Dark Bindings to restrain the poor frightened girl and then harshly rip out Sona's clothes before her hand will cruelly palm the crying support's soft flesh. The dark witch's lustful gaze never once leaving Sona's as Morgana suddenly shoves an eager palm between Sona's weak trembling legs and sinks two digits straight into-"

Ahri yelps, deftly crouching low in her seat as Morgana absentmindedly attempts to slap the annoying seductress with a burned onyx wing.

"No more cookies or baked goods for you for the entire week, Ahri. Now, _please_ , keep going."

The black-haired vixen pouts at Morgana's words before Evelynn addresses the Fallen Angel with a faint encouraging smile.

"I can capture Sona for you if you want. It's going to be easy enough and I know this great desolate place that we can use to-

"Evelynn please stop playing along with Ahri, there are a few forbidden spells I haven't been able to test out yet and if you two keep acting like this you might end up becoming my practicing targets.

"Sure snap at me for just trying to be helpful."

Evelynn pouts much like her other lupine friend and returns back to stabbing her pancakes with her fork, she just loves it when the maple syrup bleeds around the pancakes' torn forms like the lifeblood spilling out of a fresh carcass.

* * *

0000

The sun is seemingly smiling down at the Fallen Angel as Morgana happily strolls towards the mess hall with big strides, a spring in her step and a small box filled with her self-made confectioneries clasped between her pale fingers.

Today the dark witch is quite certain that she will finally manage to draw Sona's attention! The corrupted celestial had spent a lot of time studying the mute songstress and learning the things Sona either liked or disliked. Morgana had actually felt immensely blessed after discovering that her soulmate had apparently a sweet tooth, and so the crafty witch had instantly begun devising a cunning plan that would aid her in impressing the kind support with her baking skills and help her win Sona's heart through the blue-haired beauty's stomach.

Morgana can't help but pat affectionately the small paper box as she enters a torchlit hallway. The Fallen Angel is so happy that she is finally going to normally interact with her precious soulmate that she feels as if she can once again open her broken and tattered wings and fly high in the sky.

The love-stricken pale spell caster's smile widens, who would have thought that love could transform even an old sinister crone such as like herself and turn her into such a foolishly cheerful woman? Could love somehow be weaponized? That was a very interesting thought that Morgana would have to ponder later.

A golden figure suddenly bars Morgana's way and the pensive angel abruptly stops in her tracks when the dark witch comes face to face with her righteous older sister.

"Kayle"

The Fallen Angel mutters in calm distaste even as narrowed lilac orbs attempt to burn a hole through her pious sister's shiny golden helmet.

"I won't let you corrupt that innocent woman, Fallen Angel. I have already warned Sona of your malicious intentions."

The pale spell caster's previously frigid lilac orbs suddenly turn into purple scorching hot daggers. Morgana takes a quick breath, dark hues of magical power slowly gathering around her fuming form and the Fallen Angel is so enraged, so angry and saddened and bitter that she doesn't even realize that she is unwittingly crushing the little box with the baked goods that she is currently holding.

"You've had _no right_ of revealing our fate to the Ionian! No right to tell Sona about our bond! I _needed_ more time to-"

"To do what Morgana? Study her? Manipulate her? Slowly burrow your way into her innocent heart like the poisonous snake digs its nest in the soil?"

"Y-you had no right to push her away from me! SHE IS MY SOULMATE!"

The dark charging hues whirling around the angry mage instantly transform into a thick black mist, purple lightning starts crackling at Morgana's fingertips and a young Summoner spots the two angels about to confront each other and hastily flees away in terror while Kayle unsheathes her celestial golden blade. The crushed paper box drops with a loud thump to the ground.

"You ruined it for me! You've ruined everything! You chased away my precious soulmate before I even had the chance to hold her close!"

"It is for the greater good, fallen one. Mortals unlike celestial beings possess no destined soulmates. Sona can find her happiness with someone else without your poisonous existence corrupting her soul and her mind."

It isn't even the laughable message conveyed by Kayle's calm words that drives Morgana over the edge at this point. Oh no, it is the determined finality in her dear sister's tone and the older woman's unwavering conviction that Morgana is once again the frothing insane lunatic just because Kayle had made up her mind.

The Fallen Angel takes a quick step forward ready to unleash every fiber of her potent dark arcane powers and Summoners and mortal laws be damned! The cold hollow feeling steadily growing inside the younger angel's chest adding to the brewing magical maelstrom that the corrupted celestial is fully intending to hurl straight at her oh so pious and meddlesome sister's face.

"Morgana wait!"

A previously concealed figure suddenly emerges from the shifting shadows of the corridor and Evelynn falters for a brief moment when both a beaming flaming sword and two pale hands crackling with purple lightning abruptly turn to point at her direction.

"Eve?"

Morgana blinks as she swiftly turns around and resumes threateningly pointing her magically charged hands back at her clearly unamused sister. The other angel's flaming sword however remains pointed at poor Eve, the white hot tip of the burning blade purposefully aiming between the Shadow Isles denizen's narrowed crimson eyes.

"Come on Morg, you don't have to do this. There is no way Sona actually dislikes you, that woman doesn't have a single bad bone in her body."

"Kayle told Sona about me! She told my soulmate about the special connection that she and I share and pushed my Fated One away! There is no way I am letting Kayle leave this hallway alive as long as I am still breathing."

The blue-skinned female nods as she slowly approaches her hurting friend with quick measured strides, the sharp tip of Kayle's burning sword silently following the Shadow Isles denizen like some kind of a strange blazing compass.

"Maybe but that simply means that you have finally drawn the mute musician's attention, now Sona will be forced to at the very least acknowledge your existence. Isn't that what you were striving to accomplish in the first place Morg? If you pause for only a second and try to carefully think about this Kayle's scheming has only managed to work against her."

The dark witch tilts her head as her eyebrows furrow in thought, but the condensed magic crackling around the Fallen Angel slowly starts dissipating when Morgana meets Evelynn's sincere scarlet eyes.

"Just go to her Morg, I recently saw Sona sitting on a bench in the gardens and I am pretty sure that Elise accidentally spilled some of her web on said bench so Sona will probably still be there."

Morgana snorts at the Shadow Isles assassin's words, somehow doubting that Elise's intervention was actually a lucky happy accident. The dark witch nods as the purple lightning inside her palms suddenly flickers and then fades away completely much like the rest of her gathered magic. Morgana hurriedly walks towards the Institute's gardens and the Judicator attempts to once again block her sister's way only to hastily jump back when a thorn made out of shadows almost impales on the spot.

"Sorry Kayle, my friend is kind of late for her date. You will have to talk to Morg some other time."

The righteous angel merely scoffs as the flames engulfing the Judicator's sword suddenly turn an even more blinding radiant gold and the celestial warrior lunges at the blue-skinned assassin.

* * *

0000

The Fallen Angel finds the peeved support sitting on a wooden bench near a small fountain just like Evelynn had promised her. Sona is currently fumbling with her beautiful aquamarine dress that is seemingly glued on the bench's long wooden boards. The Ionian healer blinks when she spots the corrupted celestial approaching her and the young woman's flown quickly intensifies when Sona's gaze stumbles upon Morgana's stormy expression. The dark witch doesn't even offer her soulmate one of her usual deceiving polite smiles as she takes a seat on the wooden bench near the blue-haired Ionian.

"Hello, Sona, I am guessing that Kayle has already talked to you about our bond I presume?"

The cautious support tentatively nods, the Judicator had told her quite a few things about Morgana, celestial beings and the dark witch's schemes in general, but the Demacian champion wasn't sure exactly how much of those horror stories she could believe since the righteous angel was unquestionably biased in matters concerning her sinister sister.

"Kayle has most likely told you the truth, or at least a more favorable for her version of it. The bottom line is that yes I wield dark magic and I _would_ do almost anything to rain on my sister's parade. But I am not a bloodthirsty monster, and I would never purposely hurt my own soulmate. You are free to walk away from me and our bond and I promise you that I will never seek revenge against you or your loved ones."

The Fallen Angel keeps her gaze locked away from the mute support sitting right next to her, her tired purple eyes peering straight ahead, examining the rich assortment of the garden's flowers and the gently shifting grass blades moving about in the wind and all the little things the powerful witch would usually find unnecessary and mundane.

Morgana raises a single pale hand and dark magic suddenly spills forth from the former celestial witch's fingertips, the Fallen Angel's corrupted mana causing a few breathtaking rosy tulips planted in a distant flowerbed to instantly blacken and wither. The solemn spell caster more feels than hears Sona fidgeting on her right.

"Take a good look over there Sona."

The Fallen angel casually gestures towards the destroyed rotten flowerbed.

"Those pitiful ruined flowers are like me when I didn't know if I will ever lay eyes on you. Dead, destroyed, broken and lifeless, I didn't know if you would have been born a friend or a foe, a man or a woman, if you would turn up to be one of Kayle's warriors and come after my life or if my sister would search for you and kill you just to spite me."

Morgana swallows, her mouth suddenly dry as she clenches her fists and keeps her eyes locked on the disgusting dead blossoms as if she is currently sitting in the garden alone and addressing the rotting flowers instead of Sona like a senile old woman. The raised quivering hand slowly falls down in defeat much like the tears that are presently cascading the Fallen Angel's pale visage.

"I am a lot older that I look Miss Sona. I have been searching for you for countless long years, whole agonizing centuries. Endless eons even. I have been searching and s-searching and s.. sear-ching and yet you never appeared before me until now and so at some point I had started doubting myself. W-was I cursed? Was I destined to live and die all alone? W.. (sniffle) was I such an abominable monster that I didn't deserve to have a soulmate. W-were you stripped away from me along with the original color of my wings and my ability to fly?"

(Long shaky sniffle)

"H-ha.. had my life choices erased your very existence?!"

Morgana's voice starts breaking now, but the Fallen Angel continues as she points once more at the remnants of the ruined vegetation rapidly rotting in the destroyed flowerbed.

"T-take a good look over there at all those filthy shriveled up flowers. That's m-me you are seeing, corrupted and ug-ugly! with withered wings.. (sniffle) and a black heart only beating to supply me with more hate and poison. I'm a worthless r-rotten flower Miss Sona."

The Fallen Angel's hand unceremoniously drops once more but as Morgana's eyes sink down to the charred earth the dark witch blindly shows her palm to the stunned quiet support and a sole tiny black rose somehow magically starts sprouting from inside the crying pale woman's trembling grasp. Lazily shifting and growing until almost a full minute later the little blossom reaches a somewhat normal size and opens its fragrant delicate petals under the bright blue sky. Morgana shakily swallows, creating that single black rose had taken more magical power out of her than annihilating a small army.

"I am a vile rotten flower Miss Sona, both you and I already knew that."

The Fallen Angel simply places the black rose at the edge of the bench next to Sona's thigh and then gazes ruefully at the ruined and withered vegetation for the last time.

"But I somehow feel that I can bloom once more when I'm in your presence."

That's enough. Morgana has already said more than enough at the kind support and nothing that the corrupted angel could put into words would change her soulmate's opinion of her anyway. It was regrettably time for Morgana to let go.

"I promise you that I won't be bothering you ever again. Thank you for listening to an old wary crone's selfish rumblings Miss Sona. _Goodbye my soulmate_."

The dark witch hangs her head in defeat as the corrupted spell caster makes to rise and leave the Institute's gardens. Morgana has had enough heartache for the next few centuries after all and the cursed celestial now desires nothing more than to be finally allowed to mourn for the loss of her precious fated one in the privacy of her personal chambers. Sona's arms abruptly wrapping around the dark mage's body suddenly stop the spell caster's departure and Morgana closes her eyes when a familiar tender hand gently starts stroking her black onyx feathers.

The Fallen Angel closes her eyes, still too scared to meet her mute soulmate's gaze. Fresh new tears start rolling down the dark witch's pale cheeks when Sona unexpectedly kisses the corrupted celestial, pressing a small chaste kiss against Morgana's abruptly coloring forehead. Almost as if the kind support is currently trying to soothe a small scared winged child. Morgana doesn't mind in the least, this was after all the first kiss the Fallen Angel had ever received by her beautiful soulmate. The corrupted spell caster can patiently wait for something more intimate.

Evelynn smiles widely from her hiding place among the garden's shadows when she suddenly notices that the rotten blossoms at the ruined flowerbed have somehow started recovering. Black withered forms slowly shedding their ruined parts to reveal their fragile red and white petals.

The End?

* * *

0000

Kayle is standing still, completely alone in an otherwise empty ruined corridor. The celestial warrior is trembling while staring at a recently created scorch mark.

The scorch mark isn't that interesting per se, there are numerous other black smudges littering the abandoned battlefield, all of them created by her righteous flames. And yet this particular scorch mark is important and different that the other black charred smudges.

Because this specific black blot forms an almost perfect circle on the stone floor, with the exception of the faint white shadow peeking from its burned center, where Kayle's celestial flames had actually refused to even singe a single hair of a very confused and startled Evelynn.

Kayle is trembling, the proud angel carelessly tosses her golden helmet on the remnants of the charred burned floor and then presses a tentative shaky armor-clad palm at the sole white spot on the floor that is devoid of scattered soot and gray ashes.

No way, no way, it's just not possible! There is no way that Evelynn is actually her soulmate and Kayle had just attacked her!

A wet splash appears among the scattered black soot as the Judicator promptly starts crying.

Kayle had just attacked her fated soulmate. The Judicator had attacked her precious soulmate with the intention of killing her and then had tried to burn Evelynn alive. There is now no way in hell that the Shadow Isles assassin is going to ever accept their shared celestial bond and accepted to be the righteous angel's lover.

Kayle was alone. She would always be alone. The arrogant Judicator had ruined her chance of completing her special bond by trying to deny Morgana her rightful soulmate.

The End

* * *

 **Notes: This whole chapter feels too cramped to me. It is 3.8k words, double or even triple the size of my usual chapters and yet I find that it lacks substance because of all the things and little scenes I had to include to progress the story. Sona's and Morgana's first interactions, Kayle's realization, the sneaky introduction of Evelynn among other characters as to avoid suspicion, the confrontation of the two sisters, the confession. Morgana's plan to seduce Sona through her cooking, the sudden reversal of the angels' roles. I should have probably written it in small snippets to better manage the flow of the text, but that would have easily revealed Evelynn's identity and I felt that those scenes were too important to be gutted. Oh well, it was a good practice.  
**

 **PS: You have no idea of how much I struggled to refrain from making Kayle's soulmate being LeBlanc or Illaoi and make the final troll-scene one where a lucky/unlucky Kayle is in a compromising position with her sadistic soulmate, utterly powerless since her celestial magic won't defend her against her soulmate. In the end the good _drawing_ standing on my shoulder won and so I refrained from doing it. Regrettably... **

**Answer: I meant written in general. I don't see many Morgana stories, Sona's tag occasionally pops up from time to time, but we can't compare the popularity of those two to the fleet of Ahri, Riven and Katarina stories out there.**


	32. They are like angels

**Tags: Teemo, Sona, Songfiction, Bad Day song performed by Daniel Powter.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own League of legends or the song that I am using and I make no profit from using them in this story.**

* * *

It was another great day at the Summoners' Rift with the various mighty champions of the League fighting each other and beating stone constructs and magical puppets armed with shields, tiny wands and iron toothpicks. Both teams had at least two missing players, Sona and Teemo that had mysteriously disappeared after being constantly harassed by their angry teammates.

"Omg report supp 0 vision." murmurs the stoned jungler that hasn't even noticed Sona's absence since he had been busy chasing his raptors around the jungle.

"Raperdot nood Teeto." The enemy Draven adds with a condescending tone as he absentmindedly trades auto attacks with the red team's tower.

Caitlyn nods her head in agreement as she attempts to snipe a full hp tank, the flying projectile merely scraping Nautilus as the gargantuan Titan of the Depths casually raises his enormous anchor in order to "Smash puny human."

And yet all of the tilted champions abruptly freeze and stop paying attention around them as a bittersweet melody suddenly fills the Rift and their weapons unconsciously swift to point towards the ground. Teemo's angelic voice suddenly caresses the confused champions' eardrums.

"Where is the moment we needed the most  
You kick up the leaves and the free kills are lost  
They tell me your blue buffs fade to grey  
They tell me your marksman's gone away  
And I don't need no carryin' on!"

Sona smiles as she gentle shakes her head moving it to the beat of the music, the musician's fingers sliding deftly against the strings of her favorite magical instrument.

"You stand in the lane just to last hit creeps, that's just low  
You're faking smiley faces when you decide to troll  
You tell me your jungler's been away for a while  
Your tower's been falling to pieces every time  
And I don't need no carryin' on!"

The sun hides behind a few dark rainclouds and Teemo suddenly appears next to the faintly smiling support. The short yordle is wearing a tiny black suit with black trousers and a plain white shirt with a red rose tucked on the jacket's front pocket. Sona's tempo starts quickening.

" 'Cause you had a bad game  
You're taking one down  
You sing a sad song as you mute the game's sound  
You say to me, just go  
You tell me to go die  
You work at a smile and you go for a tower dive  
You had a bad game  
The scoreboards don't lie  
You're coming back down at bot and you really don't mind  
You are having a bad daaaay  
Now leave my fucking lane!"

The yordle's voice is rising and falling in perfect synch with the female support's music. Every sentence is uttered with obvious conviction, every word is delivered with raw emotion, Draven find himself crying as his jungler promptly disconnects and mindlessly returns back to their fountain.

"Well, you need a blue sky holiday  
The point isn't to laugh as you throw the game  
And I don't need no carryin' ooooon!"

Caitlyn is suddenly filled with shame. She is a sheriff and she is supposed to preserve the order and here she was almost ready to badmouth her no good scrub teammates. It's no wonder she isn't played often at competitions. Maybe she just needed to take a nice long break and rediscover herself once more. Or mute Sona and Teemo, the female adc wasn't currently sure of what was the right decision.

"'Cause you had a bad game  
You're taking one down  
You sing a sad song as you mute the game's sound  
You say to me, just go  
You tell me to go die  
You work at a smile and you go for a tower dive"

Nautilus sniffles as he lets his giant anchor slip from his enormous hands and crush to death a few mindless minions. Just look at him beating up puppets and magical stone towers like a damn fool. Mamma Illaoi would be ashamed of him if she wasn't so busy molesting Ahri in Ionia.

"You had a bad game  
The scoreboards don't lie  
You're coming back down at bot and you really don't mind  
You are having a bad daaaay  
Now leave my fucking lane!"

Diana and Leona burst into tears as they throw away their swords and rush to hug each other under the melodic tunes of Teemo's sweet voice. Leona then soon proceeds to slam her golden shield right into Diana's surprised face.

(oh, ooooooh Rito pleeeeease, don't throw the damn game!)

All the champions are now in tears. Half of them are in their promotions after all and their teammates are just standing there and singing.

"Sometimes the system goes on the blink, and the whole teamfight turns out like *bleep  
Trolling and feeding just leads to defeat and you might never make it out of brooooonze!  
And I'm not wrong."

Teemo's smile becomes a faint gentle grin as the short yordle stares into Sona's eyes lovingly while the enemy support keep playing her peculiar instrument.

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

"So where is the passion when you need it the most  
Oh, you and I  
You kick up the leaves and the game is lost."

Both adcs are now spamming surrender votes, an inhibitor crumbles to dust and Nautilus is dancing with Diana and Leona. The blue team's jungler is still disconnected.

" 'Cause you had a bad game  
You're taking one down  
You sing a sad song as you mute the game's sound"

Teemo approaches Sona and reaches for one of the enemy support's hands with his furry palm facing upwards. A brief hesitation and the female musician soon grasps his hand. The music continues meaning that the whole song was actually prerecorded and being broadcasted from a tampered mushroom hidden somewhere in the bushes.

"You say to me just go  
You tell me, to go die  
You work at a smile and you go for a tower dive  
You had a bad game"

The two performers stare lovingly into each other's eyes, they both take a step to come closer.

"DEFEAT fills your sight and how does it feel to lose your elo tonight?  
You're coming back down at bot and you really don't mind  
You are having a bad daaaay  
Now leave my fucking lane!"

Two hearts are beating as one, their lips move closer.

"You had a bad game  
You had a bad game (had a bad game, had a bad game, had a bad game)"

The performers finally kiss and the Nexus explodes. The jungler then reconnects just to type BG.

* * *

 **Notes and a plot: One of the numerous yolo stories I enjoy writing too much and I should probably be deleting right after finishing them. I was aching to write a songfiction and it was either this one or an alternative and more brutal version of Slipknot's, Wait and Bleed sang by our unexpected troubadour, our furry boy himself, Teemo! (Pause for applause)**

 **But now after writing this one TeemoxSona is my new OTP. I am not even kidding. Teemo was once a kind shy yordle that secretly loved singing, but his strong independent single mother Illaoi one day discovered Teemo's talent and dragged him at a Hex-tech Piltovian Talent show. Teemo met Sona there and the two became dear friends that often performed as a duet together. Slowly the young yordle's admiration for the mute musician turned into love.**

 **One day and when Teemo has heading to Sona's place to confess his love to her, a strange hooded man appeared before our naive hero. The man claimed to be working for Riot's balancing team and could restore Sona's voice. For a price. Blinded by desperation and love Teemo instantly accepted, unknowingly trading his soul for the voice of the mute songstress he loved. But alas Sona didn't care about her missing voice! She wanted Teemo instead! You see Sona had secretly fallen for our furry hero when Teemo had defended her against a bunch of obnoxious a ccapella singers that kept repeating De-ma-ci-a! in _Runeterra Got Talent_. **

**Sona, the Maven of the Strings now joins the Rift determined to use her powerful music and her newly reacquired voice to save Teemo from his eternal suffering.**

 **...One review equals a prayer.**


	33. Testing the waters

**Tags: Yuri, Zyra, Elise.**

 **Beta Reader: Gmp1000**

* * *

The angry waters of the glistering stream are roaring and frothing, a mixture of swirling droplets and misty moisture spraying around the sharp grey rocks that are slyly peeking out from the blurry wet coils like the heads of ancient submerged hunters positioning for a sudden and deadly ambush. The sight before Zyra's eyes could either be described as a beautiful mesmerizing scene taken straight out of those fairylands and hidden oasis that the foolish mortals apparently loved depicting in their various artworks or a malicious invitation that could lead to a painful death and an ever-shifting watery grave. The plantmage was unfortunately inclined to think of the liquid swirling snakes choking the rocks and drowning the soil as the latter.

"Do we really have to do this?"

Zyra finally questions as she raises her amber eyes to stare at the silent woman that's currently standing in the middle of the stream, but the Spider Queen's only response is a mirthful and patient smile.

The Rise of the Thorn's growls as she allows her perplexed doubtful gaze to slowly descend back on the frothing moving swirls before she hesitantly places one foot inside the nest of the coiling transparent snakes.

The water is cold. The plantmage shifts uncomfortably as she dares to take a quick peek at the silent Elise that's currently examining her with serious and yet amused crimson eyes. Zyra takes another uncertain step towards her beloved Spider Queen, and then another one, and another, the watery swirls gradually covering her lower feet and then obscuring her shapely thighs.

"This is stupid."

Zyra mutters as she takes another hesitant step and almost ends up submerged under the frothing icy waters when her foot suddenly slides against a particularly slippery flat rock that's lying at the bottom of the roaring river. The startled plantmage reflexively thrashes her arms about in an attempt to steady herself as her feet find new purchase in the depths of the roaring stream. Exotic amber orbs instantly dart to Elise and the flustered plantmage mentally curses the obnoxious Spider Queen when she inevitably spots her lover's clearly amused expression.

The peeved and blushing plantmage sighs. An unmistakably human habit that the Rise of the Thorns had quickly picked up after spending so much time in the company of the pale seductive cultist. The annoyed mage reluctantly starts moving once more.

Zyra doesn't understand the point of this whole endeavor. Sure she doesn't really dislike water per se, but the beautiful plantmage already misses the reassuring feeling of soft soil under her naked soles and the gentle humming of her growing children that are sprouting under the fertile brown earth, and the steady and not slippery ground that doesn't actively try to humiliate her. Zyra's beloved children, beautiful and adaptive as they are, still need the nutrients found in the dark brown soil and somewhere firm to plunge their expanding roots for them to be able to bloom and come to their mistress' aid.

Walking inside the violent stream is a cruel and unneeded test for both Zyra and Elise. The violent currents serve to limit the plantmage's offensive power much like the glistering swirling waters can wash away the adhesive properties of Elise's webbing.

Zyra stumbles once more almost half a pace away from the Spider Queen, but only this time pale caring arms suddenly wrap around her body steadying her. Exotic amber orbs suddenly meet loving crimson ones and the plantmage's tension and annoyance instantly melt away and disappear. Zyra grudgingly reciprocates Elise's hug and then buries her face in her lover's chest, focusing on the Spider Queen's soothing heartbeat. The sounds of the vast green forest and the angry river's yells slowly vanishing under the calming repetitive thumps that erase Zyra's previous feelings of discomfort before the lulled plantmage even notices it.

It looks like the Spider Queen doesn't need her deadly webs to draw the plantmage closer after all, much like how the Rise of the Thorns doesn't need dry soil beneath her feet to steady herself when Elise can just hold her close.

"Well done."

Murmurs the infamous Spider Queen as an assortment of scarlet flowers lazily start blooming around the stream's secluded riverbanks and tiny spiderlings land gracefully on their crimson petals.

"I hate you."

Utters the beautiful flower that is trapped in the arms of the cruel spidermage and yet not even a single plant blossoming across the riverbanks has razor-sharp thorns or shows a shred of hostility.

The pale woman smiles as she uses one flawless milky hand to lift the sentient plantwoman's chin, she then proceeds to press her lips against Zyra's.

"No you don't."

Whispers the humanoid spider to the pouting and blushing blossom that's contently resting in her arms and Zyra's answer is once again smothered against the breath of the cruel cultist.

* * *

 **Note: This story was based around the fact that plants slowly start suffocating if their roots are fully submerged in water because they can't absorb useful gasses. So I started wondering if Zyra as a former plant would dislike bathing in rivers even if she didn't possess roots anymore. Would she feel weird with no dry soil underneath her? A river could also limit Elise, summoned spiderlings would be carried away by the water, her webbings would lose their properties and her sharp spider limbs would have trouble stabilizing her against the currents if she transforms. Yep, you've guessed correctly Nami is the true Alpha predator of the Kumungu jungle.  
**


	34. Fast and Cutious, a Battle Bunny tale

**Warning: Get ready for a huge chapter people. A chapter that is so enormous in fact that is even bigger than my social life! No it is longer than a hundred words, you fools! It is 6.7K and I spent so many hours typing and editing it and contemplating deleting it just to find some peace that I have now memorized half of the Metal Gear Soldier soundtracks and I am currently saluting at my screen as I am typing this very note. I am also completely dead inside.**

 **Tags: A pinch of drama, two spoonfuls of smut, add a cup of Yuri magic and mix it with a whole Irelia and 20ml of bunny Vastayan Riven. Serve it with a M for some slight adult theme mentions and enjoy it with a cold glass of my suffering.**

* * *

Riven frowns as she approaches the small stream that is located close to the vast green valley, her thoughtful crimson gaze narrowing as she observes the abundance of burned, maimed and otherwise mutilated corpses that are being dragged further down the stream by the bloodied river's current.

The young Vastayan lets her alarmed gaze wander towards the enormous Valley laying behind the dense green cliffs, the big white bunny ears perched on her head occasionally twitching nervously as Riven attempts to pinpoint the source of the various peculiar sounds that are demanding the tanned warrior's attention.

A few bugs are buzzing over the washed up corpse of a Noxian swordsman, a woodland creature fearfully darts between the forest's thick vegetation as it hastily opts to seek the safety of its home, whether it's a nest or a burrow. The cacophony of crashes and manmade explosions occasionally shatter the eerie relative silence of the Ionian forest, terrifying thunderous sounds booming out from the direction of the obscured Valley that Riven was supposed to investigate under the orders of her tribe's chieftain.

The bunny Vastayan sighs as she places her half-empty canteen back inside her leather rucksack. The once clear and pristine waters of the river were now overflowing with blood, toxic chemical substances and gore and so the white-haired warrior would have to just grit her teeth and find another place to refill her canteen from at some later point.

It was regrettable really, but with the ominous sounds of the explosions still occasionally ringing in her big fluffy white ears the tanned young Vastayan would have to postpone the investigation of the loud disturbances for tomorrow. Her tribe leader would hopefully understand and see the wisdom and the necessity of her decision.

The young sun-kissed bunny warrior almost jumps out of her skin and fur when one of the washed up Ionian corpses suddenly starts coughing and spitting whole lungfuls of dirty water. A pawlike appendage covered in soft white fur instantly shoots for the grip of her weapon before Riven luckily realizes that the black-haired Ionian soldier couldn't actually be much of a threat with the copious amounts of crimson blood coloring the water around her form and the half a dozen of arrows or so sticking out from the wounded warrior's filthy and destroyed armor. The fact that the dying Ionian survivor's face was almost completely buried in the morbid riverbank's grime and wet mud somehow also helping in dispelling Riven's initial agitation.

The conflicted bunny Vastayan nervously bites her bottom lip as she slowly removes her fluffy hand from the hilt of her black runic blade. On one hand Vastayan weren't supposed to interfere with outsides and that term unfortunately included their fellow Ionian citizens, on the other paw the mysterious dying woman might hopefully possess the information that Riven needed in order to quickly complete her mission and swiftly return back to her tribe victorious with the knowledge of what actually caused the great disturbance.

The white-haired swordswoman reluctantly approaches the injured warrior that is panting against the mud and hesitantly kneels next to the soon-to-be corpse before she reaches out to grab a handful of the dying woman's midnight black hair.

Riven then cautiously lifts the survivor's head from the sticky crimson mud, maroon-colored orbs intently staring at the wounded female warrior's pale, bloodied visage. Two pained green eyes momentary return her solemn stare and the dying woman attempts to whisper something to her, but only succeeds in throwing up another mouthful of blood and water before her eyes suddenly roll back into her head and the Ionian soldier faints.

Another thunderous crash echoes from the direction of the unseen valley, vibrant sickly emerald glows appearing in the morning bright sky above it. Riven thoughtfully glances at the polluted red river and the endless army of torn guts and human remains that the frothing waters are carrying downstream before her attention inevitably returns back to the unmoving and barely breathing warrior that's currently dying before her.

The bunny Vastayan sighs as she grabs a hold of the faintly wheezing corpse and Riven grudgingly starts pulling the black-haired female out of the dark sanguine water.

* * *

0000

Irelia coughs as her vision suddenly returns back to her, blurry and flickering with black spots dancing before her very eyes, threatening to once again mar her sight and this time undoubtedly drag her back into oblivion forever. The Captain of the Ionian Guard shivers as she weakly tries to lift her face from the hard floor.

Irelia is cold, so very cold and her body feels heavy and unresponsive. The female warrior somehow manages to lift her head for a brief moment or two before she instantly doubles over with a scream, tears of agonizing, inconceivable pain unwittingly leaking out of her scrunched up eyelids obscuring her already hazy vision even further.

The Ionian Captain instinctively tries to curl up in a ball before a strong pair of surprisingly soft hands forcefully unfurls her weak form with relative ease and then forces her to lie down straight on the hard and uneven ground. Irelia grits her teeth in order to avoid crying out in pain. The Ionian Captain blinks as she tries to rid her eyes of the tears and take in the sight of her silent caregiver.

It is not as easy as it sounds. The injured and weakened Ionian soon realizes that she and this unknown individual are presently inside a dark rocky cave the walls of which are being illuminated by the shifting light of a small bonfire. Irelia can hear the sounds of the flickering flames hungrily devouring the brittle wood, the little hearth's feeble warmth barely registering on the veteran soldier's cold broken body.

"Stay still or I'll knock you out."

The almost blinded Ionian shivers as an unfriendly feminine voice unexpectedly reaches the injured female's ears, the warrior's initial attempt at finding the voice's source resulting in a shaky breath and more white hot pain than poor Irelia can actually handle. The Captain of the Guard once again grits her teeth as a few more silent tears roll down her deathly pale visage.

An annoyed sigh reaches the wounded warrior's ears and it is only when the same strong furry hand as before is abruptly pressed again the feverish soldier's clammy abdomen that Irelia realizes that her torn bloodied clothes and her ruined armor had at some point been discarded while she had been unconscious. The defenseless broken warrior shivers after her gaze follows the peculiar white appendage all the way to the face of a sun-kissed bunny Vastayan with merciless maroon-colored eyes.

The Captain of the Guard stills. Her previously already immensely dry throat now dryer that the foundations of an ancient Shuriman temple that's located in the middle of the desert, and Irelia almost screams from the new sensation of pain rapidly spreading throughout her neck when the warrior instinctively swallows after her jade-colored orbs suddenly meet the unexpected glare of two mesmerizing cold ruby eyes.

Irelia is currently a sweaty broken mess, buck naked and under the scrutinizing gaze of one of the most introverted races to ever grace the face of Valoran the black-haired Ionian can only blankly stare at the young bunny Vastayan in obvious awe and surprise.

And the only thing that could actually make this whole situation even worse and more uncomfortable for the Captain of the Guard than it already was, the thing that both greatly perplexed and embarrassed the wounded veteran soldier…

Was the fact that even in those utterly terrible and painful of circumstances Irelia surprisingly enough finds out that the feeling of the white-haired woman's warm paw against her shapely nude abdomen is somewhat pleasant for the injured soldier and seems to be arousing her. And judging by the Bunny Vastayan's arched eyebrows the other woman has more than caught on her guilty little secret, especially since the tanned warrior suddenly opts to unexpectedly pull her soft paw away from Irelia's burning flesh and then averts her eyes from her weak blushing patient to start searching for something inside her leather backpack.

Irelia barely refrains from swallowing the absence of her saliva again as she chooses to direct her attention to the rocky cave's ceiling and not so subtly use her unresponsive heavy limbs to attempt covering up the apparent signs of her heated arousal.

Meanwhile the bunny Vastayan starts chewing up a strange yellow herb as the tanned woman busies herself with tiding up the contents of her rucksack, her white fluffy bunny ears twitching adorably every few seconds.

 _Adorably?_

Irelia snorts at that thought earning a curious glance from her silent companion before Riven continues putting her medical supplies back in her leather backpack. Why would Irelia suddenly think of something as weird as that for her unusually quiet savior was completely and utterly beyond her!

Irelia wasn't a meek person you see. She was a renowned military commander and a martial artist of great skill that undoubtedly possessed the heart of a true warrior. There were few rare masters that dared to spar with the Ionian Captain or challenged her to a duel and even fewer enemies that intentionally stood in Irelia's way, and her dear friend Karma had even started jokingly calling her a tigress or a lioness because of the serene way the black-haired beauty carried herself around and her unquestionable fighting prowess.

And now here she was, the once proclaimed mighty tigress of Ionia fidgeting under the maroon-colored gaze of a scowling white-haired bunny.

Irelia filches as those cold ruby orbs suddenly pierce her emerald gaze, the Ionian Captain's heartbeat quickening and her breathing hitching inside her throat when the tanned bunny warrior suddenly approaches her vulnerable form and starts applying the mush of the yellow herb that she has been chewing on her various wounds and injuries. Irelia tries not to think of the sticky feeling of the warm substance and the wetness of the sun-kissed woman's saliva that's been added into the mix.

The Ionian Captain quickly averts her embarrassed gaze from the white-haired Vastayan's red eyes, a prominent blush soon settling over her pale cheeks as her unlikely savior begins spreading the yellow paste across Irelia's nude body with swift and accurate, experienced strokes of her fluffy hand-paws.

"These herbs will speed up your body's healing process and hopefully stop your bleeding."

Her savior explains gruffly as her strong white paws gently stroke Irelia's feverish skin, massaging her unresponsive limbs one by one before the ivory bunny starts treating some of the defeated soldier's other injuries.

Riven carefully leans down next to the injured martial artist to carefully apply the pulverized herb mush on a bleeding cut on Irelia's left cheek, even going as far as lightly blowing against the swallow wound in order to alleviate the soldier's pain. And Irelia's already maddening blush soon intensifies immensely as she suddenly ends up staring at the focused visage of the working bunny from mere inches away, the sudden and welcoming sight of Riven's solemn and beautiful face almost covering the wounded warrior's entire vision.

"Is there something wrong?"

And just like that the Lioness of Ionia quickly averts her panicked wide gaze from the cute and harmless, tanned bunny.

The wounded survivor opts to remain silent and merely slightly shake her head in response, too weak and flustered to even attempt making an excuse for her behavior and so Riven shrugs and resumes running her hands all over Irelia's body. Her soft ivory paws occasionally returning back to massage Irelia's bruised torso and abused stomach or using a now bloodied rag to wipe away the Ionian's perspiration, gradually returning some life and heat in the broken body of the defeated Ionian defender.

Irelia is pretty sure that she has stained her savior's covers by the time the bunny Vastayan has finished patching up her wounds and gently pulls a simple grey blanket over the feverish black-haired woman's body.

Irelia would have certainly expressed her undying gratitude by now if the cruel teasing smile perched on the snow-haired warrior's lips wasn't suggesting that Riven had practically made Irelia come undone in front of her on purpose. The damn bunny even bends over the warrior's immobile form and steals a quick kiss from the presently vulnerable Captain before Irelia finally passes out.

* * *

0000

The mighty Lioness of Ionia is blushing furiously, still almost buck naked with only a thin sheet of fabric wrapped around her feverish form and awkwardly seated on Riven's lap, the weakened Captain of the Ionian Guard is being spoon-fed some kind of warm soup by the cruel white-haired bunny Vastayan.

"Your face is beet red, are you sure that you are alright?"

Utters her evil warden and Irelia can almost taste Riven's smirk like the warm soup that's filling her stomach.

"A….."

The warrior answers and then sighs when her voice once again refuses to cooperate with her. There is a very likely possibility that the Captain's vocals cords had been damaged at some point during the chaos of the chemical bombardments.

"…"

Riven, her self-proclaimed savior and tormentor just quietly nods at herself. She then brings another spoonful of hot soup near Irelia's lips and gently blows on it before lightly pressing the wooden utensil against her patient's mouth. But Irelia merely shakes her head and the bunny Vastayan's red eyes narrow challengingly.

"We don't waste food where I come from, and I will have you know that I make the meanest carrot soup in my whole tribe."

Irelia almost giggles at that, of course Riven as a bunny Vastayan would inevitably love carrots. Most of the things that the white-haired warrior had actually made for the two of them in fact had for the time being consisted or at least included in some form her caregiver's favorite vegetable. From carrot sandwiches, to carrot soups and all the way to grilled carrots with boiled orange vegetables, Riven's love for her favorite snack apparently knew no limits. The snow-haired warrior's suspicious glare suddenly stops Irelia's laughter before it even escapes the prisoner's/patient's throat.

A soft white-furred hand lazily starts stroking Irelia's stomach as Riven carefully places down the half-empty bowl of soup with an evil glint in her eyes and her previously upturned lips now forming a dangerous mischievous smile.

"I see, I guess that I can't really force you to have any more of my food if you are positive that you are already full, right?"

The Captain of the Ionian Guard slowly nods her head all the while trying to ignore the way the other woman's hand is leisurely brushing higher and higher against her abdomen threatening to soon actually glide against her breasts and her frantically squirming heartbeat.

"But my soup was really delicious wasn't it? So fragrant and full of flavor, you will surely need a drink to cleanse your palate, am I wrong my dear?"

Irelia offers Riven an unsure smile while the bunny Vastayan reaches for her canteen. The tanned female takes a small sip of water from the container and then smiles with her eyes before she forcefully presses her lips against the mouth of the black-haired warrior.

The feverish Ionian fidgets, her jade-colored eyes abruptly turning wide like saucers as her cruel bunny jailer merely keeps smiling at her, one of her fluffy white hand-paws tenderly massaging the injured warrior's thundering heartbeat, while the other one swiftly wraps around Irelia's weak form effectively cutting off the Captain's escape.

"Mmm!..."

Irelia growls, frustrated green orbs clashing against the evil Battle Bunny's sly red ones, but the Lioness of Ionia knows when to admit defeat and so Irelia grudgingly slightly opens her lips and accepts Riven's _offered_ water. The Captain of the Guard tries to convey her feelings of fury and hate with one powerful scorching glare, but she doesn't have to since one of the white paws of the bunny warrior is still casually palming her chest and feeling Irelia's presently racing heartbeat.

And it was at that particular moment in time that the trapped Ionian survivor silently vowed to someday turn the utterly infuriating bunny Vastayan into a delicious plate of bunny stew.

* * *

0000

The chemical bombs are riddling the battlefield with acidic odorous craters the fumes of which turn flesh into ash and soldiers into walking rotting corpses. Standing proudly among her courageous Ionian brothers and sisters, Irelia and the remaining brave defenders of her country roar in defiance with reckless abandon as they lunge towards the Noxian invading army with their heartbeats thundering in their chests and bloodstained steel clutched in their worn out and dented gauntlets.

Irelia wakes up covered in cold sweat, an almost mute, gargling scream escaping from her open lips as the Ionian Captain stares at the wavering flames of their bonfire with wide panicked eyes. Irelia releases another choked scream as her sudden movement abruptly causes her still healing wounds to flare up with intense pain, her pale arm outstretched as if futilely attempting to somehow grab her dying allies and forcefully drag them back to safety.

An unexpected movement near the fire suddenly draws the weeping warrior's attention and Irelia muffles a sob as she cowers under the thick woolen blankets, the haunting images of the Zaunite bombardment resurfacing inside her mind, her slight fever and her present weakness also adding to the disoriented Captain's inner turmoil.

Riven slips next to Irelia without a word and then pulls the wounded woman closer.

"Shhh…"

The solemn battle bunny doesn't offer to her trembling companion fake and cheap words, neither does she state that everything is going to be alright or promises Irelia a chance at a better tomorrow. No, the bunny Vastayan might be a tad mischievous and somewhat of a trickster at times, but even she knows better than to treat the devastated woman cowering in her arms with anything other than respect and plain honesty.

Irelia keeps crying for what feels like whole eons, the white-haired bunny warrior's soft and warm paws silently running small reassuring circles against the Ionian Captain's shaking shoulder blades.

The mourning martial artist is pleasantly surprised when the female bunny Vastayan doesn't attempt to take advantage of her in her current state of vulnerability as Irelia pathetically breaks down in her savior's arms, pressing her tearstained face against the tanned warrior's sternum. And the currently quivering Lioness of Ionia is even more astonished when after a few uncomfortable minutes Riven unexpectedly takes a hold of Irelia's wrist and gently guides the Captain's palm to rest on top of her soft and fluffy bunny ears. Allowing the Ionian survivor to hesitantly begin stroking her sensitive furry appendages in order to halt the black-haired beauty's endless flood of tears.

It somehow works and after a little less than an hour the Ionian Captain finally succumbs to her exhaustion and falls asleep against the aching chest of the kind softhearted bunny. The Lioness of Ionia nestles next to the tanned warrior and Riven doesn't leave Irelia's side until the sun climbs back across the horizon.

* * *

0000

The white-haired swordswoman is a lot more reserved during the next few days. The mocking remarks abruptly stop, the sudden groping unexpectedly vanishes and the relentless teasing completely disappears. Riven actually bows down in front of Irelia and sincerely apologizes for her previous behavior one day and the recovering soldier can only gasp when she reads the genuine sincerity shining inside the depths of Riven's sad red eyes.

The various carrot recipes also fail to appear during their next meals and that is shockingly what has the Captain of the Ionian Guard mainly worried when the white-furred warrior actually starts cooking for them normal and acceptable meals.

The bunny Vastayan acts like a completely different person after that first heartbreaking night. Riven is somewhat more reluctant and twitchy, polite but unsure. She offers Irelia nervous fleeting smiles that fade before they reach her eyes and then grabs a random piece of wood and a knife and busies herself with sculpting small wooden animals and blocky figurines out of wood instead of interacting with her concerned, currently recovering Ionian patient.

And yet even if Riven becomes quieter and much more solitary than before the white bunny would always tentatively slip under Irelia's blankets and place the Lioness' trembling hands on top of her soft and fluffy white bunny ears whenever Irelia would be having a nightmare or even starts feeling cold during the night.

The Vastayan then offers the Lioness the exact same sad polite smile before returning back to her quiet corner at the other side of the cave and her quiet woodcarving, away from the Ionian survivor and her obviously upset jade-colored glare.

This repetitive pattern was beyond frustrating for the agitated recovering warrior and curiously enough while Irelia had initially wished for nothing more than the cruel perverted rodent to leave her alone and stop toying with her, the bedridden Ionian warrior is now quite upset with Riven suddenly ignoring her.

* * *

0000

The loud chirping of birds coming from outside of the cave finally wakes up the sleeping Captain, blurry jade-colored orbs blinking a few times as Irelia attempts to take in her surroundings.

She is still lying inside the cave, no surprises there. Her head comfortably resting against the sparse fluffy patches of soft white fur that's covering part of Riven's shoulders, the slumbering Battle Bunny's strong and warm hands still wrapped around Irelia's back from when the snow-furred Vastayan had tried comforting her after a particularly bad nightmare last night.

Irelia stifles a giggle as she quietly observes the Battle Bunny's cute sleeping face. Riven is having the most curious expression right now, and her mouth is even gaping wide open. The Ionian Captain can't help but mentally wonder if her caregiver is perhaps dreaming of happily munching defenseless carrots.

Irelia's gaze softens as she shifts a little bit to have a better view of her sleeping companion. Who would have thought that Irelia would at some point slowly start developing feelings of camaraderie for the obnoxious humanoid rodent that had both saved her life and have been harassing her for almost an entire week now? And yet Irelia had garnered immense respect for the perverted white bunny in such a relatively short period of time.

Riven could be brash and inconsiderate at times, but also gentle, sweet and overprotective whenever the occasion called for it. Now if only the Captain of the Ionian Guard could finally convince the sun-kissed warrior to stop ignoring her for no reason, things would be stellar.

Irelia's smile vanishes at that thought. One of the soldier's bandaged hands absentmindedly rubbing one of the sleeping white-haired woman's twitching bunny ears. But now what could have possibly triggered such a huge change in the mannerisms of the mischievous Vastayan?

Was it just the incident with her horrible nightmares, or had Irelia somehow insulted the crafty white bunny by petting her fluffy ears? But then again Riven had been the one that had encouraged that specific interaction between the two of them and the tanned exotic warrior would frequently reenact that sweet touching moment whenever the bunny suspected that the Lioness was experiencing an inner turmoil.

Could the reason for her tanned savior's cold behavior be something else then? Had Riven perhaps just run out of her favorite orange vegetables? And if that had really been the case was that perhaps also the reason that Irelia had been allowed to eat like a normal human being for once and not a bloody carrot-muncher?

Irelia would be beyond pissed at the Battle Bunny if Riven was just throwing a tantrum because her weakened patient had actually eaten some of her precious carrot supplies in the past.

The sudden sound of incoming iron-clad footsteps emanating from somewhere outside of their small cave abruptly alerts both snuggling women and Irelia is about to shout a gurgling warning when the bunny Vastayan abruptly tosses away the blankets that have been previously wrapped around her form and deftly jumps to her feet. Riven then grabs her giant black sword and takes a measured step in order to stand in front of the recovering Lioness. Standing before her unamused patient like some kind of a menacing bodyguard. A white paw casually grips the hilt of the Battle Bunny's enormous black blade, crimson eyes narrowing in a clear show of annoyance and hostility.

Irelia blinks as she end up standing behind the tanned warrior's back and the wounded Lioness is about to follow her kind savior into the fray, with her weak broken body and nothing more than her recovering bones and her bare fists if she had to. But Riven takes a swift step forward as to further distance the black-haired warrior from the imminent conflict as Karma and her soldier attendants unexpectedly enter their small hidden cave.

* * *

0000

"Don't worry about your voice Irelia, I am absolutely sure that Soraka's magic will be able to fix whatever is currently ailing you when we return home."

The mute Ionian mumbles something unintelligible, but soon smiles in agreement and then allows a grateful smile to appear on her lips as Karma's soldiers silently continue carrying her makeshift stretcher. The bunny Vastayan is quietly observing the Ionian women's exchange from the other side of said stretcher, her red gaze blank and her strides carefully and hesitant, but matching the pace of the two soldiers. Riven keeps uncomfortably glancing between the recovering Captain and the green sea of trees, her tanned features betraying the white bunny's inner turmoil.

The sun-kissed swordswoman merely examines the relaxed Captain and the easy smile on her patient's lips for a few more minutes before the bunny Vastayan gradually starts lagging behind, her strong hind paws drifting slower and slower across the carpet of the forest's leaves. Her crimson eyes actually losing some of their previous luster.

It takes Irelia almost a full minute to finally notice that the bunny Vastayan is not walking next to her stretcher anymore, and the Ionian Captain's eyes instantly narrow in confusion, only to widen a second later when Irelia violently twists her body on top of her stretcher almost resulting in her falling off it in the process. The injured Ionian warrior easily spots the white bunny Vastayan silently watching her from a couple of meters away as she hesitantly raises one paw to wave an uncertain farewell at her stunned patient.

"Aa…?"

Irelia gurgles but Riven only offers the weakened Lioness a rueful smile before she takes a small step back towards the trees, and then another one.

"Aa!"

Attempts to yell the startled pale warrior as Karma grimaces at her friend and then presses a reassuring hand against Irelia's tense shoulder. The Enlightened One's own troubled gaze also following their tanned benefactor's sudden departure.

"The Vastayan are a secluded folk, Irelia. They usually stay away from the affairs of humans and never willingly abandon their secluded villages inside the heart of the forest. This one has only stayed near the capital for so long to make sure that you were safe."

"A…"

Irelia tries again, but the soldiers that are carrying her stretcher just keep walking forward like mindless Piltovian machines and so the bunny Vastayan soon disappears behind the forest's dense vegetation. Irelia continues mournfully staring at the trees for long after Riven fades from her sight and Karma grimaces as she takes note of her childhood friend's complicated expression.

* * *

0000

"So a bunny Vastayan huh? Those are quite rare and particularly popular during the mating season. I've had a couple of those of course." Ahri grins seductively and the fox Vastayan pretends that she doesn't notice the angry way Irelia's face abruptly twists at her boast or the sudden dangerous glint appearing in the warrior's eyes. Soraka shoots Ahri a disapproving look as she resumes healing her silently fuming patient. It was at times such as those that the kind healer wondered why Irelia and she had even bothered befriending the sultry mischievous seductress…

"I wouldn't really know, Ahri. I have only ever met two Vastayan in my life. You and Riven."

The vixen lowly hums, her tails almost vibrating. The seductress' grin widens as Ahri continues her out loud pondering.

"She must have been a Battle Bunny if she was carrying a runic sword, they are an even rarer breed than normal bunny Vastaya. Proud, solitary and hostile, they are usually extremely hard to approach. Did you perhaps try seducing her?"

That sounded about right. Riven had initially been a real jerk before she had finally started showing Irelia her kinder and more compassionate nature. The Ionian warrior was already missing her.

Irelia of course refrains from voicing any of those thoughts. The Lioness of Ionia merely nods at this new information, hoping that the lack of response would hopefully discourage Ahri and cause the mischievous vixen to start gossiping about something else. Anything else, really.

"Sooo… how was she? Was she muscular or maybe petite? Did she have soft fur all over her face and a small fluffy tail that looked as soft as if it had been made out of the world's most expensive velvet? Did she have any weird tribal marks on her face?"

"She had a normal build, no fur on her face and I don't know about her tail, but her ears were in fact like you have just described. No marks or tattoo's anywhere but she was using white war paint so she might have been hiding them. Now, could you please just leave me alone to rest? I am hungry and tired and I want nothing more than to sleep as soon as Soraka makes sure that I have made a full recovery."

The Captain of the Guard faintly smiles when her dear friend Ahri doesn't continue this particular discussion. But the relieved smile soon dies on her lips when the annoyed vixen suddenly moves closer to her and grasps Irelia's shoulders in an iron grip to get her stupid friend's attention.

"Please tell me that you didn't touch her bunny ears."

Ahri stares at Irelia's confused expression for a few moments before she releases her friend's shoulders with a long tired sigh.

"Damn, you did, didn't you? You definitely touched her bunny ears! No thick carrot stuffing for the poor little bunny this year, I guess." Ahri angrily mutters and Irelia looks at Soraka questioningly when the healer cringes at the vixen's outburst and her mysterious and apparently vulgar, irritated phrasings.

"Irelia might have just brushed them by mistake, Ahri." Soraka quickly interjects to appease the seductress' wrath. "She wouldn't know the consequences of her actions. And it's not like Miss Riven has been utterly ruined for the rest of her life, you know. Riven can find a person to build her nest with at the next mating season."

But Ahri just scoffs at that. "Sure, she will only have to suffer through this one, ostracized, horny and alone and then compete with the younger generation for a suitor. That sounds really fun, doesn't it?"

"What exactly are you two talking about? I just touched her damn bunny ears!" Finally yells a peeved Irelia and Ahri just snorts at her with a particularly menacing expression marring her face before the fox Vastayan abruptly decide to leave the room with a dark scowl and a twist of her snarling lips and while muttering something about a nest- scatterer in the process. Irelia is completely lost at this point.

"Vastayan aren't supposed to be interacting with outsiders, Irelia" Says Soraka after a few passing tense moments. "They see most of humanity as potential dangers to their hidden communities and their tribes will generally go to great lengths to stay far away from even their fellow Ionians unless they have absolutely no other option."

Irelia slowly nods, but she already knew that particular piece of information from both Ahri's rumblings and Karma's soft words during Riven's departure. Soraka stares at her silent friend for a bit longer before she continues after she lets out a rather long tired sigh.

"When you were young you were probably warned against touching any cute baby animals that you might have ended up encountering in the forest. Your mom and dad strictly warned you that the animal's parents would run away and abandon their offspring if you were to ever touch the small adorable baby."

Irelia nods again, her jade-colored orbs intently fixed on the healer even if her expression is showing her complete and utter confusion.

"Well as you probably know by now this warning was in most cases just a means to stop you from disturbing nearby animals, or drawing the negative attention of the baby's parents. Birds and forest critters rarely abandon their little ones if they discover the scent of humans on their offspring. But that regrettably sometimes happens to young Vastaya."

The Captain's eyes instantly widen in shock as Irelia's mouth is now gaping in horror. Soraka hurries to reassure her dear friend before Irelia starts feeling guilty for no reason.

"Don't worry. Riven won't be exiled or ostracized by her family and friends. She just won't be able to find a mate at this season. The other Vastaya will merely notice another's scent mixed on her animal parts and think that the bunny has already been taken. Riven _will_ unfortunately have to spend this season alone, but she will be most certainly able to find a lover at a later date. You just have unintentionally postponed it."

If Soraka would have expected her explanation to calm down her dear friend she would have been sorely disappointed. Irelia does seem to settle down, but the skin around her eyes tightens and creases and the Ionian warrior's full lips become a strained thin line. Clouded emerald orbs slowly rise to find the healer's golden lakes of compassion and if the Starchild would only peek at the Captain's hands she would witness the Lioness' clenched fists and sense the caged emotions seemingly gathered in her friend's extremely tense, white tightened knuckles.

"But Riven has been excluded from this mating season, correct? No one will claim her because of me already marking her as mine."

Soraka silently nods, but Irelia isn't even paying attention to her dear friend anymore. The Ionian Lioness' eyes close and countless drifting images abruptly encompass the warrior's sight.

Two soft white paws are shielding her quivering and vulnerable form when she is standing at death's door.

A pair of ivory fluffy bunny ears is currently tickling her chin as the exhausted Ionian survivor finally falls asleep, the glistering tearstains of slowly drying tears still visible on her deathly pale visage.

There is a kind maroon gaze watching over her when she is being feverish and weak and an anxious shadow that rushes at her side whenever she is having another nightmare.

They suddenly hear approaching footsteps and a tanned Vastayan takes a step forward, her body forming a defiant breathing wall between the still recovering martial artist and her possible attackers.

An obnoxious and annoying bunny is toying with her. An ostracized one is forced to spend a whole season completely alone.

The Lioness of Ionia finally opens her eyes and when she does her gaze is sharper than her family's blades.

"Soraka" The jade-eyed beast suddenly growls "Please be a dear and go find me Ahri."

And the nervous Starchild wisely decides to heed the seething beast's words and so the celestial healer hastily abandons the almost empty infirmary.

* * *

0000

*Knock *Knock

Riven growls, feverish and aroused, the sweaty female bunny Vastayan momentary stops trying to satisfy the terrible ache between her loins in order to send an irritated glare towards her locked front door.

"Human-touched bunny Vastayan in here, whoever you are, _please_ , get lost unless you are willing to give me _the carrot_." The panting warrior growls between her gritted teeth as the tanned woman's hand futilely glides back at her burning flower. Riven had been in heat for almost an entire week now and her peculiar condition had only seemed to be getting worse by the day, especially since every male and female Vastayan of age had been practically avoiding her.

*KNOCK *KNOCK

"Bastards, it's like they are doing this on purpose!"

The white-haired bunny sighs as Riven grudgingly removes her hand from her aching core and then weakly gets up and attempts to reach the front door with the least amount of friction to her loins. The young Vastayan doesn't really bother pausing to throw something on to cover her tanned glistering skin, because for one thing the other Vastaya would probably easily smell her arousal and two, everyone was walking around in the nude during the mating season anyway.

*KNOCK *KNOCK

A fist once again tries to break her bloody door and Riven grunts in anger as the burning in her loins intensifies. The young Vastayan weakly slams her shoulder against the wall as she starts fumbling with the key, her previously unsteady legs already shaking from the exertion as the poor bunny Vastayan takes a long deep breath and finally manages to open the door, her blurry crimson gaze swimming all over the place and unfocused.

"Listen pal, I'm kinda busy right now, so how about you scram before I bend you over the table and fuck you in the ass with a fucking carro-"

The white bunny Vastayan stills as her hazy sight is suddenly greeted with the visage of a familiar female Ionian. A very familiar female Ionian in fact, that is currently wearing a scowl on her face and carrying a dusty traveling rucksack. The previously irritated bunny's voice quickly fades away as Riven's fight-or-flight instincts suddenly go into overdrive.

-t."

"Hello, Riven." The Lioness with the hungry green eyes practically growls at the stunned and startled bunny Vastayan, the Captain's appreciative gaze leisurely wandering across the nude woman's form before stopping at her visibly dripping flower.

"Am I visiting you at a bad time? A bad day?" The hungry beast mutters and Riven tries to smile. Her heartbeat quickens, a tanned hand is already moving to close the door, but a strong pale one grasps it.

"Or a bad _season_ perhaps?" Red eyes turn the size of saucers as Irelia steps into the room and tosses the backpack on the ground. The Battle Bunnies are a fierce and brave tribe, strong and proud, the very image of a fearless warrior. And yet Riven's instincts are currently screaming at her to run! Move! Flee away from the hungry Ionian Lioness that casually closes her front door and swiftly locks it behind her!

"You've been a very bad bunny, Riven."

Growls the female lion and the Vastayan's nose might have instinctively twitched a little bit just from the starved feral heat visibly swirling inside the dark depths of Irelia's jade-colored stare.

"A very naughty bunny indeed, and I've yet to pay you back for all the things that you did to me in that cave."

The bunny Vastayan is so scared that she can't even scream as the black-haired hungry beast leisurely approaches her. This time her nose definitely twitches and that only serves to make the pale terrifying predator even more excited.

* * *

0000

An exhausted and nude Riven is contently lying on the bed right next to an apparently pleased and equally nude Irelia. The bunny Vastayan's head is comfortably resting in the crook of the Captain's neck, her body being tightly embraced by the arms of the pale warrior, a strong delicate hand occasionally rising to tenderly run its alabaster fingers across the fluffy white ears of the trapped red-faced bunny.

With her heat taken care of for the time being and the pain in her burning loins subsiding considerably the tanned bunny Vastayan can finally rest. Shivering and moving uncomfortably whenever Irelia leans to press a loving kiss on her temple and lips or gently pauses to caress her twitching long ears.

And Riven doesn't really dislike the Captain's light touch and she doesn't mind the affectionate caressing per se, but every bunny no matter how proud and strong would be feeling a little tense while resting in the loving embrace of such a fierce and beautiful Lioness.

The End

* * *

 **End me: So I have noticed that Irelia is usually the dominant one in Rivelia stories (probably mainly due to Riven's trauma) so I decided to try swapping their roles a little bit.**

 **And so ladies and gentlemen I present to you our pride and Joy, the Vastayan Riven! The Riven you see here ladies & gents is a natural-born snuggler with soft crushing paws capable of any fluffy act and a pair of long white ears to more easily hunt down any would-be strugglers that might try escaping from her during the mating season. She likes carrots, long walks at the beach and tormenting the people that underestimate her because of her cute and innocent appearance.**

 **And now someone out there should turn Irelia into a wolf Vastayan and Syndra into a fox and write a story where the two of them attempt to win the bunny's affection. Bonus points if they have to make out with Zyra so the plantmage will grow for them a very big carrot they will then give to Riven as a present.**

 **And then hunter Caitlyn walks into the woods and spots that cute Vastayan bunny and she sees the dangerous fox and the grinning wolf right next to it and so Cait decides to protect Riven and take her under her protection (and over the kitchen table, but that's another story.)**

 **And then officer Volibear comes in and he is like: Excuse me Ma'm but do you have a license for that rifle that shoots nets and blades and whatevers? And Cait is like: Of course I have a goddamn license you fool! But she doesn't! And so Cait slowly reaches into her skirt's back pocket and grabs her trusty taser and… TASES VOLIBEAR RIGHT IN THE BIRD!**

 **"Omg!" Mutters the shocked Volibear "Why y shoot my police bird, Caitlyn!" And then he looks at his poor unmoving partner, but Anivia is clearly also frozen in shock.**


	35. The dark side of shipping

**What do I usually do when I want to take a break from editing? Simple, I write these charming stories.**

 **Tags: Lux, Zilean, various interesting couples, so subtle Yuri that you'll barely notice it.**

* * *

Lux smiles as she finally walks past the golden gates baring the entrance to the Institute of War, her sky blue eyes beaming with happiness and pride and her head held high as the light mage excitedly strolls down the crowded hallways of the League. She had actually made it! Luxanna Crownguard could barely believe that she had been allowed to join the roster of the famous League as the newest Demacian champion!

Luxanna's innocent smile freezes on her lips when she suddenly becomes a witness to the most bizarre sight she had ever seen in her whole life. Champions, there were champions everywhere, and they were all kissing.

There is a hulking yellow robot standing a mere few paces away from her, its bulky iron hands tightly wrapped around the form of a redhead lady with spider appendages sprouting from behind her back. The spider-human hybrid keeps sighing and moaning as the redhead unsuccessfully tries to shove her tongue into the Great Steam Golem's absent, nonexistent mouth.

…

What? Why would a robot even- Why would the spiderlady even- What-

"Mfff!"

A sudden desperate sound suddenly draws the awestruck blonde mage's attention and wide blue orbs slowly dart towards her left only to instantly once again move away when Lux witnesses a buck naked Shauna Vayne writhing in pleasure while being assaulted by a big-eyed purple void monstrosity possessing three electrified pulsing tentacles.

"L-Lux.."

The shaken light mage unwittingly jumps in fright when she recognizes the voice of one of her most cherished childhood friends. Luxanna hopefully follows the voice, struggling to maintain her remaining sanity as the flustered blonde mage hurriedly turns her head around in order to find Fiora. And Luxanna Crownguard actually finds her dear childhood friend indeed, it's only that Fiora is currently being sandwiched between the muscular bodies of a Shadow Isles undead centaur and a hulking purple Zaunite, the enormous blue tongue of which keeps licking the whimpering and moaning noblewoman's beet red face.

"R-run."

Fiora mutters weakly as a female yordle wielding a tall hammer suddenly jump on top of the spectral centaur's shoulder and starts sensually nibbling at the duelist's ear, the short yordle woman staring directly at the young Crownguard with a visible hungry expression.

"R.. Ah!.. unnn!"

But there is no way Luxanna can actually flee since her legs could have as well been made of ice at that moment. The Grand Duelist then spasms and releases a very unlikely feminine mewl as Fiora abruptly comes undone in the hands of the peculiar trio. The undead centaur then pauses to affectionately nuzzle Fiora's sweaty hair.

"What the fuck is going on here?!"

Screams the blonde Demacian in horror.

"Shipping…"

Replies a solemn figure that suddenly emerges from the dark, a wizened and mysterious-looking old man with a giant clock securely tied behind his back with a legth of rope.

"Shipping?"

Mutters Lux as her eyebrows scrunch up in distrust, what do naval vessels have to do with all of those League champions getting down and dirty around them.

"Yes shipping! League champions are unfortunately forced to fulfill their social duties and interact with other members of the League in order to appease the masses and preserve the peace of Valoran! Hoho! The term for those duties is called shipping, most likely because of all the shapely glistening bodies trying to ram into each other as if they are proud frigates participating in glorious naval warfare!"

The wizened old champion then coughs in his fist to regain his composure as he examines Luxanna's form with a pair of very sad and pitying eyes.

"Damn I feel sorry for you."

"W-why?"

The light mage nervously swallows the lump in her throat as she tries to ignore the panting forms making out on the floor, her face as red as that screaming spider-woman's hair.

"You look innocent and delicate so you will be probably shipped with brutes like Trundle." The old wizard points at a muscular troll that's currently grinning at her. "Or a bad boy like Fizz over there." The wizard then gestures towards a walking humanoid fish that keeps licking its lips suggestively while staring at her, and repeating a peculiar gesture where it continuously moves its wet slimy tongue between the curve formed by two spread thin blue fingers. Luxanna actually takes a subconscious step back after noticing him.

"Don't worry my child, there is still a chance you will be shipped with a female champion of the League, Summoners do love those kinds of things after all. Hmm.."

The wise time sorcerer takes a peek at the various moaning champions littering the floor and his eyes suddenly brighten as he comes up with a great idea.

"Maybe you will be shipped with more than one champion! Perhaps.. Ah yes! Two Noxians, the Sinister Blade will be the cruel violent beast that abuses you and Riven will be your big gentle white-haired teddy bear. A love story between members of opposing factions is always interesting!"

Luxanna blinks as she tries to picture herself in an actual relationship with a Noxian and only succeeds in imagining two hungry feral wolves approaching her with malicious intentions.

"I-I don't think that I like shipping."

Zilean scoffs as he looks at the young light mage with a dark expression that somehow manages to convey both his annoyance and his agitation.

"Of course not you foolish child, do you think that I like carrying this stupid enormous clock everywhere I go like a damn lunatic? I was once shipped with Volibear, my child! I am still trying to protect my poor rear!"

Luxanna flinches, her hands unconsciously moving behind her back to protectively grasp her own more feminine rear.

"T-that sounds unpleasant…"

"Yes it was, and you still don't know the most terrifying thing about shipping."

Luxanna loudly gulps when her name and title are suddenly being projected on the opposite wall through the horrendous unseen magic of the evil Summoners. An assortment of ever-changing faces starts flickering next to her brand-new smiling portrait.

"You might be shipped with bad people and enemies, barbarians and monsters, but there is an even worse fate out there that all League champions dread and very few brave ones even dare to imagine."

The changing portrait finally stops flickering and shines brightly showing the face of Fiora. Luxanna smiles in relief and she is about to go and find her childhood friend when another portrait suddenly appears next to Fiora's showing a menacing titan wielding a heavy morning star and then another one depicting the purple Zaunite with the blue tongue she had just seen mere moments ago..

…and next to him appears a dark witch posing next to her smirking black-haired clone, and a white-haired warrior that's carrying the remnants of a broken black blade, and-

More and more portraits keep appearing around her smiling visage presenting various hulking violent monstrosities or powerful-looking and arrogant females and poor Luxanna can barely register the old time wizard's sigh when Zilean finally utters the dreaded word that seals the light mage's fate.

"Harems. Good luck Miss Crownguard, you are definitely going to need it."

Lux doesn't even have the time to answer or react when a short-haired Freljordian woman suddenly pulls the stunned mage closer by the wrist and kisses her. A strong pale hand abruptly squeezes her rear and through wide blue eyes Luxanna can barely see Zilean soundlessly mouthing, _watch your butt_ , as the Freljordian warrior briefly takes a step back and then starts guiding Lux somewhere by tugging on the light mage's captured appendage.

"Welcome to the league of Legends, Demacian. How about we two get better acquainted with each other in my bedroom?"

Zilean's sad, powerless stare follows the new couple as Sejuani drags poor Lux away from the crowded hallway. The wise old mage shivers when he spares a glance at the still flickering portraits surrounding Lux's and spots the undead faces of Thresh, Sion and Karthus.

"Harems." The old wizard sadly whispers and then Zilean uses his magic to speed himself up and run away after he notices Volibear observing him with sad, heartbroken and longing eyes.

* * *

 **Writer's notes: There are three premises in this story. 1 Have Lux break the forth wall and learn about shipping. 2 Show the terrifying side of what we authors do (Imagine a child slamming the faces of a Cho'Gath and a Garen doll together, close enough) and 3 finally find an explanation for the existence of Zilean's clock. I mean it is not even mentioned in the lore and he has secured it behind him with rope of all things. Rope! Why is he so desperate to keep that clock behind him, huh!?**


	36. Vampire Courting 101

**Another one-shot from my Hunters and Scouts au. This one takes place after one-shot number 23.**

 **Tags: Quinn, Vayne, Yuri, Drama.**

* * *

Shauna Vayne's room much like the actual champion's usual attire was gloomy and dark, tidy and efficient, with ancient grimoires littering the old mahogany desk and its windows obscured by the fabrics of thick black curtains. The infamous Night Hunter didn't need the harmful touch of the sunlight in order for her scarlet gaze to pierce the shadows' veil after all, unless those petty Summoners had accidentally transferred her vampiric nature to her beloved Quinn that is. Like right now.

The Night Hunter sighs as she lets her presently calm brown eyes wander across the familiar dark room, the cloaked figure pressed against her chest still purring contently as it dreamed of sweet sanguine blood and the touch of gentle pale hands made of the purest alabaster. Shauna smiles at that particular thought, the rare smile forming on the former vampire's ruby lips dipping to plant a quick kiss against the hooded head of her unconscious Demacian ranger. The purring sound becomes even louder.

This whole situation still felt bizarre and unreal to the completely inexperienced in matters of love Night Hunter. Her time spent with her little birdy was so loving, so sweet and so.. so fulfilling that the once cursed vampiric huntress couldn't help but wonder if the kind brunette that was currently purring against the crook of her neck was actually even real.

Maybe she was and maybe she wasn't, and perhaps Shauna's poor broken heart might have just been crushed one too many times in the past and so the fallen noblewoman was now simply insane and delusional. Maybe Shauna would suddenly wake up one day to realize that Quinn was nothing more than a deceiving fiction of her own cruel imagination.

Vayne's brown eyes blink when her brunette lover suddenly starts nibbling at her neck in her sleep, the young fledgling vampire's previously content purring now turning into a pitiful whimpering of sorts as if the slumbering Demacian ranger had somehow been able to read the tormented huntress' thoughts and so she was now trying to comfort her mate even while being unconscious.

The faint smile instantly returns on Shauna's tense lips. The Night Hunter could always trust her softhearted birdy with pushing away her fears and insecurities and dispelling her feelings of sadness.

"Shauna…" Mumbles the sleepy vampire that's nestled inside her arms in a shaky and needy tone that makes even someone as guarded and stern as the Night Hunter blush and hold the cloaked brunette ranger that's slumbering on her chest just a little bit closer.

"Mmm tasty.." Breathes out the brunette vampire and Shauna Vayne merely grumbles with a disappointed and exaggerated, stoic expression when Quinn abruptly buries her pearly pointy fangs in her peeved mate's throat. But the content fledgling's happy purring sounds keep pulsing against Vayne's chest and so admittedly somewhat grudgingly the peeved black-haired woman stays still and lets Quinn enjoy her new favorite breakfast as the sleepy vampire subconsciously wraps her limbs around her lover like a giant love-struck koala.

* * *

0000

Quinn lowly hums in excitement, with her taste buds practically flooding with her lover's delicious crimson nectar and her foggy mind failing to comprehend what's exactly happening around her. The female brunette vampire sleepily breathes in her mate's scent as she opens a single glimmering red eye to inspect her nearby surroundings.

Quinn freezes, both of her eyes now widening in surprise the moment the Demacian scout abruptly realizes that she is not only feasting on her human lover, but she is also coiled around Shauna like a snake and restraining the black-haired huntress with her superior vampiric strength. The ranger's eyes are wide like saucers at this point as the Demacian scout quickly pulls away from the visibly confused Night Hunter and simultaneously releases her captive with a startled gasp and a hitched intake of air. Her crimson gaze unconsciously drawn towards the two twin bloody marks marring the torn skin of poor Vayne, her eyes locked on her lover's still bleeding throat. The young vampire starts hyperventilating.

"Quinn?"

The vampiric scout almost jumps in fright when she unexpectedly hears Shauna's uncertain voice, her sanguine stare suddenly meeting the hunter's worried brown orbs before carefully examining the human woman's extremely pale complexion.

The fledgling vampire nervously runs her tongue against her lips and shivers in shock when she abruptly tastes Vayne's blood, her whole frame screaming in joy as if she had just sampled sweet divine ambrosia. The Demacian ranger's eyes instantly move back to the twin scarlet marks that are still leaking maroon droplets across her lover's shoulder, almost as if the liquid itself is silently begging her to save it and cherish it like an edible ancient treasure.

*Thump *Thump

*Thump *Thump

Quinn can almost hear the tasty droplets pleading!

The vampiric scout whimpers before she suddenly dashes away from the alarmed Night Hunter's arms and outside of their shared chambers. She blatantly ignores Shauna's voice.

* * *

0000

It doesn't take long for Vayne to track down her escaped quarry. Hunting down vampires and locating creatures of darkness was the Night Hunter's job after all and then again there weren't too many places in the Institute that offered the desired solitude or the protective shade that Quinn needed in her current jittery and cursed condition. Lux's subtle nod towards an abandoned staircase leading to the underground wings had also proven to be quite helpful.

The brooding huntress descending the staircase confirms her prey's presence before she even spots her, Quinn's muffled sniffles ringing like thunders in the fallen noblewoman's ears and registering like repetitive stabs against her aching ribcage.

Vayne carefully approaches Quinn's shaky form and then sits down next to her on the last few steps of the staircase before she all of a sudden wraps her hands around the brunette's quivering frame.

"It's alright. You didn't drink too much of my blood and you definitely didn't hurt me either. I am completely unharmed, see?"

Quinn just nods, but she doesn't reciprocate the huntress' hug and her pale tearstained face is still hidden in the shadows of the hood of her cloak.

Vayne grimaces when she spots a few white whiffs of smoky ribbons trailing off the vampire's hunched form. Quinn had probably been exposed to direct sunlight while frantically running away from her in the upper corridors, but Shauna decides not to comment on it, hoping to somehow salvage both her mate's bad mood and the current strained situation.

"I bit you." Whispers the young fledgling vampire in a low and quivering tone of voice. "I wasn't even conscious at the time, but I manhandled you and then I went straight for your throat in my sleep. I could have actually killed you if I had accidentally punctured your jugular by mistake! I-I would have woken up next to your c-cold and unresponsive body!"

Vayne winces as the scout's frame is suddenly being racked by a new wave of sobs, Quinn's fingers blindly grasping the fabric of Shauna's clothes as the young horrified vampire unceremoniously starts crying against her lover's clenching heartbeat. A heartbeat that Quinn had almost silenced forever not even an hour ago. A heartbeat that was unknowingly still pulsing just for the brunette scout.

The fledgling vampire swallows weakly, the taste of Vayne's blood mixing with that of her guilt inside her painfully dry mouth.

"Y-you need to restrain me! Stop giving me blood and bind me with silver chains! Lock me up in some dark dusty room for all I care! I.. I am clearly out of control right now and I-I.. I DON'T want to lose you!"

Brown eyes abruptly narrow as Vayne angrily stares at the fidgeting black hood shifting just underneath her chin, her hold on the brunette Demacian woman abruptly becoming stiff and a tad bit aggressive before the Night Hunter forces her arms to embrace Quinn more affectionately. More naturally and as she should. Shauna's sighs, her concerned gaze quietly wandering across the dim lighted halls and the seemingly abandoned underground passage.

"I'm not going to use silver on you, Quinn. Do you remember what happened yesterday?"

Quinn doesn't answer immediately, but she nods. The memory of Shauna pleasing her while she had been in such an unstable, emotionally charged state of mind still somehow managing to dust her pale tearstained cheeks with a healthy dose of rouge even with the sharp pain in her chest still present.

"You made love to me.."

"That's right, and you bit me at that time too and I am still completely fine. Biting is an intimate show of affection for most vampires. It is much more than a simple desire. It is an instinct, a need, an inexplicable urge to mark your lover with your fangs and drink some of their life to let it become part of your essence. Twisted and disturbing as it may look, we sink our teeth into our respective mates to let the light of their souls cleanse our own tainted gloom and allow their warmth to cure our hollow pitch darkness."

Vayne lets her little birdy digest all this new information for a minute or two and then brown orbs leisurely slide back towards the black shaking hood of Quinn's cloak.

"Would you chain me up like a dog if you were in my shoes right now? Would you shove me inside a silver coffin like the one that I've spent most of my childhood in and leave me in there to suffer for the duration of the night?"

That last one seems to have the desired effect and Quinn is instantly glued on her cursed noblewoman's chest as if her very life is depending on it, the black hood of her cloak violently darting from right to left as the fledgling vampire is furiously shaking her head wildly all the while screaming, "Never!" And "No!"

A determined hand slowly reaches out and removes the scout's hood revealing Quinn's tearstained and blushing face in all of its pale wet glory. Shauna's gaze minutely pauses at the small pointy fangs peeking out from the fledgling's quivering lips and the glistering crimson wells that are her mate's lovely eyes, and the Night Hunter will probably never understand how Quinn can look so vulnerable and cute while under the effects of a curse that makes herself look monstrous and coldblooded.

"Then please don't ask me to harm the woman I love, my heart. Especially since her inner vampire is such a loving and affectionate one compared to the savage mindless beast that is my own."

…

Wet crimson eyes are staring fixedly at serene brown gems and the conflicted scout would have probably disagreed with the Night Hunter's sugarcoated descriptions and wishful way of thinking if it wasn't for the certainly in Vayne's tone and the honesty portrayed on the expression of the solitary female.

"Your inner vampire woke me up today with a bite in the neck first thing in the morning."

The former creature of darkness finally utters offhandedly and Quinn flinches at Vayne's sudden reminder of her deeds. But the upset scout can't move and she can't run and the young Demacian ranger somehow already knows that she won't be able to avert her gaze from her glaring beautiful mate for any possible reason. How is it exactly that Shauna is doing this to her when the huntress is currently supposed to be the weaker one of the two? How can the mirthful smiling lips of the usually brooding Night Hunter have captured the fledgling's attention more effectively than any cruel silver manacles and chains could have ever accomplished?

"That's not an attack against my life, Quinn. That's the equivalent of a vampire's confession of love."

The brunette scout blinks and then her scarlet eyes widen in realization, even more so when she suddenly registers the low repetitive hum, a low soothing sound emanating from her very own body. Shauna grins when she notices her mate's embarrassed reaction.

"That's another proof right there that you inner vampire means me no harm. You have been constantly purring since the moment that I sat next to you and embraced you."

The fledgling vampire's face flushes a bright red as Vayne proceeds to gently press her smiling lips against her lover's. And Quinn's pupils instantly dilate when those same smiling ruby lips affectionately brush against her pearly extended canines resulting in something dark, white-hot and carnal to suddenly flood through the scout's entire body.

"Well, it's your call to make. You can sleep alone tonight if you think that you can't control yourself."

A still smirking Shauna attempts to get up and leave only for a pair of pale arms to suddenly wrap around her shoulder blades and force the mischievous huntress to reconsider it as Quinn abruptly kisses her mate while glaring at her through needy and narrowed red eyes. The couple's mouths briefly part once more as the fledgling vampire shoots the Night Hunter the most accusing and furious look that Quinn can manage to assume with so much crimson and heat running just beneath her brightly flushing face.

"You just put me in heat on purpose to sway me! You're just plain evil, Vayne!"

The Night Hunter merely scoffs as she stares at her annoyed quarry, a tender knuckle moving underneath Quinn's pale chin in order to force the fledgling vampire to maintain their eye contact.

"And you confessed to me and then run away before I could kiss you. It is only fair that you will have to receive some kind of punishment."

Faint red hues lazily mix inside Vayne's brown orbs as the fearless huntress approaches her lips to Quinn's only to stop mere inches away from her invaluable prize.

"Don't worry my little birdy, I promise that I will take a good care of you." The black-haired huntress huskily whispers against the lips of her prey and her quarry's heartbeat suddenly skyrockets.

Quinn is sturdier! She is faster! She is stronger! The fledgling vampire _knows_ that she is the superior predator in the abandoned hallway and that the huntress is now a mere frail human, but then again Vayne's knowing smirk begs to differ.

In the end it doesn't really matter since the brunette's limbs seem to unwittingly coil around her mate's form before Quinn even knows it and the Night Hunter places a chaste kiss against her birdy's throat. A soft whimper escapes from the young aroused vampire's lips as the victorious Night Hunter starts proudly carrying her precious trophy back to her shady lair.

* * *

 **Author's notes: The biting confession concept was one of the ideas that I can't quite remember if I have actually used in Hunters since that story was mainly centered around Vayne's POV and Vayne was frequently acting on instinct so she wouldn't have to explain why she liked nibbling at Quinn to herself. There was also an old idea that vampires might actually be able to taste the feelings of the ones that they are feasting upon and so they prefer drinking the blood of their mates since they can feel their affection. They get high on blood and they get addicted to tasting their mate's positive feelings, something that they can't get by simply stalking and attacking strangers in the night. That might also be the reason that vampire Vayne and Quinn enjoy love bites so much. I can't remember if I used this idea in Hunters and Scouts either, but it has always been swirling inside my head since forever among other jumbled concepts.**

 **There was the idea of Shauna gaining Nocturne's fear powers after a particular incident for example, bat wings as a vampiric evolutionary step, how about explaining Vayne's invisibility during her ultimate to her moving so fast that the eye can't see her for a few short moments? Too overpowered so I didn't use it.  
**

 **There was also an idea about void portals opening around Valoran and Runeterra's combined armies almost facing extinction when Vayne travels all the way to the Shadow Isles. Defeats Mordekaiser on a duel, claims his crown and then turns up just in time to save the world by recklessly leading the Shadow Isles' undead armies against the void invaders to avoid the death of Quinn as the Void's attempts to raze the Demacian army.**

 **Everything seems lost for a moment, but then a lone figure suddenly appears on the distant hills and darts for the Void monstrosities. It is Shauna Vayne! That's fearlessly riding on Hecarim's saddle into battle with an eerie black spectral crown glimmering on her head and cold fury in her eyes. And as the solemn vampire rapidly approaches the Voidlings a sea of green flame and ghosts appears behind her on the hills and follows Vayne into battle. The tide of green death collides with the purple abyssal torrent and the stunned soldiers of the Demacian army can barely believe their own eyes. Lux desperately tries to keep Quinn away from the fight as Vayne is abruptly dragged under the deadly crushing waves. Good times.**


	37. Dungeons & Dragons

**This story is rated M for some sexual themes and the intentional destruction of some fairy tales.**

 **Tags: Shyvana, Dragonslayer Fiora, Yuri, Smut, Could it be tagged with fantasy when Valoran is already filled with dragons, knights and spider-wizards?**

* * *

Shyvana growls in warning when the wretched Dragonslayer abruptly enters her lair hidden in the heart of the high Misty Mountains. The humanoid dragoness snorts, releasing a few whiffs of black smoke from her nostrils as narrowed golden orbs wander across the form of the unexpected invader.

This wretched hunter was an audacious one, Shyvana quickly notes. The Half-dragon's angry glare silently examining the lone figure that's wrapped in torn cream-colored rags with a few pieces of leather armor made from dark-brownish drakeskin peeking out from the shredded and scorched ragtag assortment of cloths, that's forming the vile hunter's dirty clothes. The pale purple dragoness inevitably snarls when she spots the grimly trophies procured by her dead kin, her infuriated glare instantly darting towards the man's calm sky blue eyes. The only feature of the Dragonslayer other that his black and red dichromatic hair that isn't concealed by the bloodstained rags that are coiled around his face or the pitiful remains of Shyvana's unknown, slain brethren.

"I will dance in your ashes!" Ominously growls the enraged dragoness, but the murderous stranger merely stares at Shyvana from between the weathered barrier of his hood and the assortment of cloths covering the lower parts of his face. He then produces a rapier made of sharpened dragon bone and the pale purple female feels the last shreds of her sanity slipping away as she instantly transforms into her true draconic form and lunges towards the despicable human butcher.

* * *

0000

 ***Roar***

The defeated body of the arrogant Dragonslayer painfully slams against the hard wall of the cave, the bone rapier finally torn away from his powerless fingers as the cloaked figure struggles to lift itself from the ground that's littered with the gold coins and valuable treasures that the pale dragoness has gathered throughout her long lifetime.

 ***Cough***

The wretched Dragonslayer makes as if to weakly grab his discarded weapon only for a now humanoid hand to roughly grab his dirty hood and slam his head against the stone wall of the cave. Shyvana kicks the macabre weapon away from her downed foe as the human hunter's vision is suddenly being engulfed by black flickering spots and swirling blurry colors.

"Serves you right for messing with my mighty kin."

"…"

Sky blue eyes merely glare at the pale dragoness' narrowed golden ones as Shyvana absentmindedly wipes a bit of blood from the side of her ruby lips before she silently glances at her smudged scarlet digits in clear agitation.

This human was strong, the Half-dragon grudgingly admits to herself. He might not possess the sheer strength or the impressive bulk of other Dragonhunters that Shyvana had fought with in the past, but the cloaked warrior had proven both precise and quick on his feet and Shyvana had almost sustained some lethal injuries even while using her more sturdy true draconic form in their short rumble.

The dazed defeated assassin is still attempting to stand up and so the Half-Dragon decides to once again slam the poor man's head again the cave's wall and wrap a hand around his neck for good measure. Shyvana's once fiery golden orbs now instantly becoming cold chips of Freljordian True Ice as the victorious female dragon angrily glares down at her collapsed kin-killer.

"You aren't going anywhere, Murderer. You suddenly barged in my home and tried to kill me in cold blood and now you will have to suffer the consequences of your actions."

"..."

Shyvana growls once more when the defeated Dragonslayer blatantly refuses to retort to her taunts, but just continues staring at her with those angry scorned blue eyes. The Half-Dragon's hold around her opponent's neck suddenly tightens then as Shyvana starts slowly applying more and more pressure, her once iron grip gradually becoming borderline crushing until the poor wounded man is choking and coughing, and his azure-colored orbs are soon welling up with tears due to his slow suffocation.

Two gloved hands hopelessly attempt to pry the dragoness' hands away from the hunter's neck and Shyvana smiles a cruel smile before she lazily releases her captive's now sore throat.

"Make no mistake little man, I _will_ kill you. But first you will have to suffer for your crimes against dragonkind."

Golden orbs abruptly zero in on the stranger's treated drakeskin and a scarlet gauntlet swiftly grasps the doomed man's bloodstained leather armor.

"I will be taking this back stranger. Murderers such as yourself don't deserve to wear the scales of my proud brethren after all." Shyvana states before she violently strips the drakeskin from the assassin's eerily quiet form and the surprised Half-Dragon pauses when the milky fair skin of her defeated foe and her feminine assets are suddenly revealed with the removal of the injured savage's grimly draconic garments.

"You…"

The dark cloth concealing the wounded Dragonslayer's identity is hastily removed by an armored pale hand and Shyvana blinks in surprise when she unexpectedly finds herself under the scorching hot glare of a fair-skinned blue-blooded Demacian beauty. The mighty dragoness stares fixedly at the Grand Duelist's powerless form, her expensive lace undergarments and her prey's womanly curves. And the Demacia noblewoman abruptly finds herself feeling uncomfortable when her failed hunt's golden eyes are finally focused back on her rapidly coloring visage.

"This doesn't change a thing, vile huntress. I am still going to punish you and torment you for what you have done to my kind."

The defenseless Dragonslayer shudders as she powerlessly glares at the victorious Half-Dragon, Shyvana's expression resembling an angry mask carved from stone.

* * *

0000

Some days later.

"Gggnn!" Pants Fiora as the dragoness' pale purple hands deftly keep moving between the defeated Dragonslayer's legs, the image of the fallen noblewoman's nude and sweaty body being reflected by the golden ornate mirror the Half-Dragon was using to crush Fiora's form between her own nude body and the Grand Duelist's sweat-drenched reflection.

A light purple palm suddenly grabs a handful of the squirming huntress' black and crimson locks and forces the captured noblewoman to look straight at her very own blurry sky blue eyes inside the golden mirror. Fiora's frantic breathing fogs the surface of the misty surface around the duelist's nose and lips, but Shyvana still refuses to release her panting quarry.

Restrained behind her back the Grand Duelist's fists tighten as the Demacian blueblood fruitlessly attempts to untie the leather bindings on her wrists one last time.

"Just look at yourself Dragon Slayer." The purple draconic woman whispers as she breathes out against one of Fiora's red cheeks, Shyvana's cruel digits relentlessly curling up and uncurling inside the panting woman's core in almost perfect synch with the twitching blueblood's frantic and thundering heartbeat.

"…"

"How does it feel to be the hunted for once? How do you like it being a mighty dragon's defenseless prey?"

Shyvana suddenly pulls the duelist's feverish face away from the sweaty mirror so the other woman can lay eyes on her nude and panting, squirming form. The cruel fingers inside Fiora abruptly curling up and the restrained Dragonslayer instantly screams something unintelligible as the huntress' body starts writhing against the chest of the fierce female purple dragon.

"…!"

"Are you enjoying this perhaps?"

There is no intelligible reply coming from the panting Dragonslayer. Fiora merely produces a few choked moans and then grits her teeth when the dragoness lies down on the carpet of ancient coins and uses her pale legs and an arm to keep the thighs of the feverish duelist spread wide open. Sky blue orbs meet golden ones through the reflection of the ornate golden mirror and the Demacian woman's face flushes an even brighter shade of red after glimpsing at their current position.

"You are never going to harm another innocent dragon ever again, little hunter." Mutters Shyvana in a harsh and authoritative tone of voice, her fingers still playing with her captured assassin's parted flower petals.

The mute duelist just continues panting, attempting to regain her breathing as the dragoness' angry caresses seemingly mellows and slows down.

It had taken Shyvana quite a while to realize the reason for her quarry's complete silence and her adamant refusal to answer the dragon's various questions, but now the pale purple female knew that the dishonored noblewoman was incapable of normal speech and most sounds other than gurgles, moans and the occasional angry grunt. Shyvana frequently wondered if that had something to do with the reason the gorgeous noble had picked that particular profession of all things. That would at least explain the huntress' animosity towards the Half-Dragon's majestic kind.

"You are now just another treasure in this room you heinous brute, another sculpture or trinket, a trophy of my victory against humanity's monstrous blight. Look at you now, a simple toy for a mighty dragon such as myself. Was it worth it to hunt down my kind you savage?" Shyvana growls as she suddenly pushes the feverish Dragonslayer back against the mirror's wall while roughly attacking the core of her living trophy. The Half-Dragon's warm pale purple body abruptly trapping that of the fair-skinned noblewoman against her own reflection as Fiora finally climaxes with her ruby lips parted and her eyesight hazy and unfocused, her hot ragged breathing ghosting over the shaky image of her own facial features.

"GGGggHHhnnnn! Gggh…! Hnnn!"

Shyvana patiently waits for Fiora to catch her breath, her fingers still gently stroking the female noble's oozing flower. The Grand Duelist shivers as Fiora almost collapses on top of her exotic tormentor.

"Tsk"

The peeved dragoness grumbles, fairly certain that the damn Dragonslayer has splashed her feminine nectar all over her coins and the lower part of her precious ornate mirror. Never mind that, Shyvana will just make the defeated noblewoman lick everything clean later when she is done punishing the huntress.

A feral growl abruptly escapes from the Half-Dragon's chest after Shyvana uses one strong but cruel hand to turn Fiora's face to the side and captures the duelist's lips with her own in a display of both possessiveness and as a clear sign of her draconic dominance over the breathless heinous assassin. But the pale dragoness is once again mildly surprised when Fiora reluctantly kisses her back as sky blue orbs defiantly meet her shiny golden inhuman eyes.

There is no hate or immense despair hidden in the dark beautiful depths of the defeated Dragonslayer's azure gaze, but there is definitely something else lurking inside those determined sky blue irises. Something fierce, something different, and yet something much more tender than anything Shyvana has ever witnessed before. And so the mighty dragoness unexpectedly finds herself holding the Grand Duelist just a bit gentler than before as her almost would-be assassin resumes kissing her softly.

* * *

 **Long, long notes about an unused plot and some story ideas: I usually like taking a more yolo approach in my stories, but sometimes I like trying my hand on different genres like smut, spiritual or simply parodies. Fiora and Shyvana, there are so many settings that can work with this pair.**

 **I had initially started writing a story about how Fiora joined an expedition to the Freljord in order to escape the chaos and the political backlash caused by her killing her father. Our heroes are asked to defeat the evil Frost Dragon that terrorizes the villages. Fiora gets lost in a snowstorm or an avalanche and Shyvana saves her. But it was all a misunderstanding you see, Shyvana is peaceful and the Freljordian villagers simply fear her because of her scary appearance. They even send her brides as sacrifices! Shyv assumes that Fiora is her new bride (the brides usually run away after a while.) because of her uncommon duelist attire and Shyv starts showing Fi her affection hoping to finally make a friend and stop being so lonely, leaving alone in the mountains. Meanwhile the rest of the Demacian party thinks that Fi has been eaten and so the party scales the mountains in order to get revenge on the evil Frost dragon and slay poor Shyvana.**

 **But that plot needed a whole series instead of an oneshot. I then remembered that almost half of the Demacians have a Dragonslayer skin and I thought, If Braum can become one just by carrying a shield, why can't Fiora, right? And so a Vayne-ish angsty version of Fiora was born where Fi is a lone hunter of dragons after Sol accidentally sneezed near her family's manor or something. I didn't ponder too much over the reason that Fiora is mute, I thought that it suited the lone wolf character and so I left it on Fi's vocal cords possibly getting damaged by smoke and extremely hot air or something during the tragedy. There was also a humorous idea/explanation I didn't include where a naïve Shyvana was sleeping with the huntress in order to use Fiora to repopulate her kind. A dragon leaves to find their own lair at a fairly young age and so poor Shyv doesn't quite understand the general rules of reproduction or that two females can't have an egg in her case. So Fiora's punishment is to help Shyv restore the numbers of dragonkind indefinitely.**

 **Here's another much more lighthearted plot bunny featuring Fiora and Shyv and fairy tale mechanics and stereotypes:**

"Do you see those humans having a picnic over there my little sweet scale?" The ancient dragon king attempts to whispers in a rough voice like shifting gravel and Shyvana frantically nods her head from her hiding spot between the bushes. Her father being the cunning dragon that he was had ripped a few trees from the nearby forest to use as his own means of concealment.

"Good, go grab one of them and then we will take them back to your tower. You're finally of age now my Sweet Scale, and every dragon that's worth their fire needs to kidnap a princess after reaching adulthood! Try to threaten her if she has the gall to deny your kind offer! I will be watching you from over here in case you need me."

The young dragoness salutes, determined to make her papa proud Shyvana darts from her cover and wraps her arms around a random unsuspecting noblewoman.

"I got you!" Exclaims Shyvana and a very confused Fiora merely blinks as the strange pale purple girl starts dragging her towards the nearby bushes. The Grand Duelist's family casually observing the weird spectacle taking place before them with raised eyebrows and amused expressions plastered on their faces.

Their Fiora was the Grand Duelist of course, so there was no way she was going to lose to the mysterious scaly female.

A few surprised heads perk up when suddenly a voice like crumbling hilltops starts shout-whispering, "Good, now threaten her, Shyvy! Draconic etiquette is really important!" from the direction of the upside-down trees near the bushes. Wait why are the roots of those trees even facing upwards instead of downwards and why in Jarvan's sweet pious name are they also happily humming in approval?

Shyvana hurriedly nods her head as she turns around to lock eyes with her visibly puzzled quarry.

"I am going to eat you!" Growls Shyvana in a tone much like drunk menacing, stumbling newborn puppies and Fiora's face instantly heats up when her family starts murmuring things like "Attagirl!" and "How indecent!" from somewhere behind them. Shyvana examines her prey's face for a second or two and then pouts cutely when the blue-blooded woman fails to show any signs of sheer terror and imminent panic.

The purple dragoness' bottom lip starts trembling as Shyvana's golden eyes abruptly return back to the obviously humming and shifting upside-down trees of the vast green forest.

"Papa it isn't working! This human girl wants to be eaten by me!" Suddenly shouts the young dragoness and Fiora's face reddens immensely when the Grand Duelist grudgingly acknowledges that there is some shred of truth hidden in the strange woman's indignant yelling.

"Maybe she is just really, really depressed Shyv!" Answers the sea of shifting uprooted trees in a voice much like a scorching roaring inferno. "Try to brighten her mood, my sweet scale, but be firm and commanding while interacting with your quarry! I've heard that humans can actually smell a dragon's fear!"

The majority of the gathered wealthy Demacians stare fixedly at the sea of moving trees after hearing that last bizarre statement in particular.

"Yes papa!" Shyvana seriously salutes with the pale purple arm that isn't currently wrapped around the Grand Duelist's waist and the young dragoness smiles toothily at Fiora as she turns to gaze at the presently quiet noblewoman's blushing red face.

"Don't worry human girl! I am a very good playmate and I have a lot of adult toys we can play with when we get back at the tower!"

Shyvana just loved playing with the burned pieces of armor and the shattered swords that littered the ground near the entrance to her father's tower after all! And judging by the human princess' wide-eyed reaction and the small encouraging squeeze of her palm her prey also quite enjoyed playing dragons and knights!

Excellent! And just wait until Shyvana showed the noblewoman her world-famous weird stone collection! The dragoness just knew the two of them were going to quickly become besties!

Meanwhile the ancient dragon king hidden behind the upside-down trees shivers as he abruptly feels a horrifying chill run down his gargantuan spine. The Dragon King's golden eyes narrow, now why does he suddenly feel as if he is about to meet his beloved Shyvana's nest partner?

"Papa! Papa! Look I've captured my first human princess!"

The ancient dragon smiles affectionate at his cute little scale, but the smile suddenly freezes on the Dragon King's face when he suddenly spots the way the vile human female is holding the hand of his precious innocent little dragy. And also the maddening blush marring the human girl's happy face…

"Denied! Quickly return it back! Send her back Shyv! Pick another one, this one is obviously broken!"

The resulting pout produced by Shyvana is almost strong enough to break the powerful dragon's thick scarlet scales.

"Buuuuut daaaad! Fiora here has already promised to wrestle with me every night and even bring some of her favorite adult toys with her so the two of us can play together!"

Wise golden eyes instantly widen.

"Back! Back! Send it back! Send it back right now! This perverted woman is a no-no my precious little talon!" Hurriedly roars the ancient dragon king and that only serves to make Shyvana cling to the presently glaring Fiora even harder.

"No! She is mine now! I found Fiora first and so I'm keeping her!"

"She is keeping me." Instantly agrees the visibly smug Grand Duelist and then she slyly winks at the ancient creature before her that is apparently having a panic attack all the while he keeps murmuring something about a small talon and a sweet beloved pair of scales. Fiora makes a show of casually wrapping an arm around the perplexed dragoness' waist.

"Come on, Shyv. I want to see my new room and it looks like you father really wants to be left alone right now."

"Oh? Oh! Ok, bye dad! Fiora and I will be wrestling in my bedroom if you need us!"

The Dragon King whimpers as he watches his little dragonling go. Shyvanaaaa...

An equally tired man then approaches the mournful giant from the bushes and tiredly pats one of the gargantuan King's colossal talons comfortingly.

"I know." The Grand Duelist's father lowly whispers from beside the visibly solemn Dragon King. "Fiora is just… You know between you and me sometimes I swear that that girl is going to be the death of me one day."

…

…

"Gather your armies and sharpen your swords you pitiful man, because I swear that I am going to burn down your entire nation if your vile hellspawn even _attempts_ to corrupt my sweet and innocent little scaly baby."

* * *

 **Ps: And now I want you to kindly pay attention to the title of the chapter and carefully think of the meaning of the first word in relation to the contents of the story. Wow, I am spreading more corruption than Varus today.**


	38. A silent cry for help

**Tags: Sona, Vayne, Drama, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort.**

* * *

Shauna grunts in pain as she blindly opens the window and shoves her weak bleeding body inside the familiar gloomy chamber through its opening. She instantly collapses face first on the floor, and the injured vampire hisses as Vayne's vision swims for a few brief seconds. The huntress sighs as she slowly manages to lift her face from the floor, one of her extremely pale hands clenching the gaping hole at her side.

 _Thump, Thump._

The tormented huntress scowls in annoyance as she eyes the torn bleeding flesh peeking from the remnants of her bloodstained outfit. She had been too slow, too careless and confident. The Night Hunter had predicted the presence of the dark witch at the time, but Vayne hadn't taken into consideration the great numbers of Corrupted or the small army of undead servants the damn witch had hastily summoned to attack her.

 _Thud! Thud! Thud!_

The sound of hesitant, albeit hurried footsteps and the sudden light bursting out from a hex-tech lamp suddenly distracts the cursed noblewoman and Vayne instantly raises her loaded wristbow. The silver-tipped crossbow bolt abruptly shining under the hex-light and posed to kill before the bleeding huntress fortunately recognizes the visibly shocked person that's currently observing her, and refrains from launching the deadly projectile.

 _Sigh.._

The wristbow is lowered as Vayne somehow stands up and proceeds to silently limp her way towards the bathroom's door, a clearly anxious Sona following her new roommate close behind her.

Damn, amidst her pain and her blood loss-induced dizziness Shauna had almost forgotten that she was now supposed to share her living quarters with the Maven of the Strings until the damage caused to the dorms by Ziggs explosive antics had been repaired. Vayne generally preferred her solitude, but for one defying the orders of the Summoners was a hustle that Shauna would much like to avoid if possible and two, Sona was a considerate and quiet person that wouldn't disturb her hunts and operations too much, if at all. The Night Hunter pitied the poor unlucky soul that would have to live together with the psychotic Loose Cannon or the bubbly Lady of Luminosity for the next few days.

 _Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!_

Shauna grunts once more as she hastily opens the bathroom's door while removing her cape and then carefully sets down her enormous crossbow on the pristine white tiles of the floor. The young wounded vampire refrains from switching on the lights as the injured huntress puts her scarlet shades inside the mirror's cabinet, Vayne's vampiric vision more than enough for the fallen noblewoman to recognize her immediate surroundings. The cursed huntress briefly examines her pale visage in the mirror and her hellish crimson eyes that glow in the dark before she starts removing the torn remnants of her shredded bodysuit.

"…"

"I apologize for disturbing you Maven, I will clean the mess I've made once I am healed in a few hours or so."

Sona remains silent, but hesitates to leave and Vayne just assumes that the mute Ionian musician is just overwhelmed by the sight of her fiery ruby orbs that are presently glowing in the room's shadows. Most mortals, even her fellow Demacians would find her appearance and presence unnerving after all, and that's one of the biggest reasons that Shauna would use her red goggles to hide her hellish, inhuman pupils. The cursed Night Hunter doesn't really mind the blatant way that people are avoiding her. Friends and social interactions had become hindrances and signs of weakness for her after she had vowed to cleanse Valoran of the wretched disease that was her nightmarish kind.

 _*Shredding_

The black skintight fabric has finally been completely removed, peeled away with a few quick deftly tugs and a short series of small hisses of pain. Another human would have definitely shuddered at the terrible wounds that hid underneath the pale huntress' imposing attire.

But not Shauna Vayne of course. Although Shauna hadn't considered herself a human being for at least two decades.

And so the tormented noblewoman merely glances at the myriad of bite marks and the deep cuts littering her milky flesh before she sighs and grudgingly lies inside the simple white bathtub. There is no reason for the fallen noblewoman to dirty more of the room and the furniture than she has already stained with her sanguine flowers that are reeking of copper. There is no reason for the cursed champion to showcase her vile nature before her new innocent Ionian roommate.

 _*Deep breath_

Shauna closes her eyes as she tries to sleep in order to escape the pain of her wounds, mentally urging her healing factor to kick in while the looming shadow of unconsciousness begins to swallow her tired mind. The wretched being releases a small breath when her consciousness quickly starts fading away, meaning that either the blood loss has finally taken its toll on her or that the familiar black shades of her bathroom and the sensation of something sturdy behind her disheveled head were subconsciously drawing out her inner vampire into a twisted sense of comfort and safety.

"…"

The Night Hunter abruptly opens her eyes when Sona suddenly sits on the bloodstained floor and gently takes a hold of her scarred pale hand, the mute musician's thumb brushing small soothing circles across the injured vampire's marble epidermis. The Ionian spell caster knows from experience that Vayne's vampiric nature would turn any form of light-attribute spell into a vile curse, and that healing charms would do more harm than help Vayne recover.

"I am fine, my wounds will heal in a few hours. You may go now, Maven." Says the fallen noble, but the mute support merely shakes her head and Shauna sighs as she eyes the young woman's ruined blue dress, its silky fabric stained by her spilled vile lifeblood.

…

The silence seems to be stretching for endless eons as Shauna fixedly observes the Ionian woman through half-lidded inhuman eyes that would have probably made famous warlords shudder in fright and courageous soldiers run away in fear and abandon their precious weapons.

"Do what you want." Finally mutters the wounded vampire after a couple of tense minutes.

The Night hunter isn't particularly used to acts of love and kindness. Most people would just ignore her or finish the job instead of extending a helping hand if Vayne was ever in danger. And yet Sona is now sitting on the bloodied floor of their small dark bathroom while holding the hand of a wounded monster.

Heh, every pureblood Clan in Demacia had turned its back on her only for an Ionian orphan to instantly come to her aid. Shauna almost smiles at the irony of the whole situation. She probably would have, but the cursed noblewoman doesn't actually remember of how to smile anymore, and the sight of her pointy canines would have probably scared off her stubborn caregiver.

The delicate hand stroking her crimson palm is soft and warm, so unlike her own fleshly tools of violence and murder. Vayne sighs once more as she closes her eyes and lets the gloomy room before her gaze disappear from her blurry vision. But before the room vanishes the cursed vampire _does_ catch a glimpse of the Maven's gentle azure-colored orbs. Sona' striking sky blue stare is quietly examining the older woman's terrible wounds with something akin to unconcealed hopelessness and visible concern before the hunter's eyelids suddenly bar this so utterly inconceivable discovery.

"It doesn't hurt." Lies Vayne as Sona reassuringly squeezes her hand and brushes a few locks of raven black hair behind the wounded vampire's ear.

"You can go to sleep if you want, I'll survive."

She always does, she always will. It is a part of the horrible curse that she bears. It is a part of being a wretched creature of darkness.

But the mute Maven's only response is another delicate hand joining the first one in safeguarding the Night Hunter's abused pale appendage as Sona resumes stroking the wounded vampire's torn and bruised digits with even more care and tenderness.

"It doesn't hurt." Vayne whispers once more, but she turns her face away from the caring support as a lone tear silently slides down her pale inhuman visage.

But it does hurt. It hurts a lot and the cursed Night Hunter isn't used to such immense acts of pure kindness. Or at people that refuse to back down and leave her alone when she is in pain.

"I don't need your help. I don't need anybody." Utters Shauna in the darkness and Sona's only response is to lean forward and silently embrace the wounded bloodstained Night Hunter.

* * *

 **Notes: Another little writing experiment, this time I wanted to try my hand on a friendship story and see if specific sound effects can keep a tame scene alive without the use of complex descriptions and dialogues. I think that I failed, but even so I really like the final result.**

 **"It doesn't hurt." Breathlessly mutters Shauna as Sona starts poking her in her terrible wounds.**

 **"It doesn't hurt." Repeats the injured vampire when the Ionian support suddenly shoves an entire finger inside the bleeding hole at her side.**

 **"I don't need your help." Grunts the Night Hunter when Sona starts poking her with a long pointy stick.**

 **"I don't need anybody." Vayne venomously whispers at the crowd of Demacian champions that's patiently waiting for their turn with sticks on their hands and visibly determined eyes just outside of her small dark bathroom.**


	39. The sad, sad princess and the warlord

**Tags: Leona, Diana, Yuri or Friendship? I am not sure.**

* * *

The moon was peeking through the shroud of the clouds, the stars shimmering, scattered across the night's dark veil like miniature gemstones. A lone figure with auburn hair and the body of a mighty warrior frowns as it pulls the sleeping pale fairy that's sleeping by her side even closer.

Targonian nights were cold like the heart of the lightless Void after all, and Leona would like to refrain from seeing her young concubine weak and sickly if she could do something to avoid it. The great Targonian warlord mentally sighs as she lets her scarred tanned hand tenderly glide across Diana's shapely ivory back, the Solari warlord's fingers also seemingly mesmerized by the smooth curves of the tribal lunar princess.

The moon worshipper wasn't one of Leona's people after all. The cultists of Diana's tribe were nomads and sheep farmers, simple uneducated folk that liked keeping their heads low while migrating inside the mighty warlord's territory. The Lunari nomads were only a small insignificant minority living in the vast plains surrounding Mount Targon and the moon cultists themselves were painfully aware of their insignificance.

And so as much as Leona and her Sun knights wouldn't generally resort in waging war for no good reason, the female Solari leader wasn't really that surprised when the small Lunari village had sent her the daughter of their fearful chieftain as a gift and a trophy.

The pitiful lunar nomads were obviously prepared to sell out their own daughters and whore out their dear priestess in order to avoid incurring the wrath of the powerful gold-clad Sun knights.

Diana had been really quiet after her initial arrival. Betrayed by her own people and herded all the way to Leona's fortress near the peak of Mount Targon like mere cattle to be a stranger's toy, the moon priestess' heart had suffered a blow like no other. The fact that the female warlord was kind and easy on the eyes wouldn't seem to matter at all, neither had it mattered that Leona had instantly forbidden everyone from touching or otherwise mistreating the beautiful moon maiden.

The scorned tribal princess' attitude had been extremely cold during her first few days among the Solari warriors. Diana's warm and lithe pale body silently nestling nude under the warlord's sheets expecting the Sun worshipper's cruel touch with a dreaded certainty that equaled her devotion to her distant ivory goddess that was staring at her from her perch in the night sky.

Leona grumbles at that particular thought, her strong tanned arms around the priestess' waist tightening as the mighty Solari quietly examines the face of the sleeping woman that's lying by her side. Diana's fair visage is relaxed and peaceful for once, the silver-haired fairy's body utterly vulnerable as the cultist sleeps soundlessly next to Leona. The scorned princess' bitter grey irises are hidden behind her relaxed and closed eyelids, Leona's bed sheets providing some cover and warmth for the betrayed Lunari woman. A thin layer of protectiveness in an otherwise alien environment.

The Radiant Dawn can't comprehend how someone could chain such a perfect creature and use it as a bargaining chip. She cannot fathom what kind of monster would take advantage of this fairy that's quietly breathing under her chin and force this unique and perfect being into slavery.

As if on cue and as if Diana has been reading her thoughts all along a sole grey hostile eye opens to gaze at the visibly thoughtful and tanned mighty warrior. Leona freezes with her arms still wrapped around the body of the nude concubine, the Solari's mind coming into a sudden halt as the brunette woman abruptly finds herself face to face with a very unamused Lunari princess. Another stormy grey orb instantly opens in order to glare at Leona in anger.

"So you are finally ready to truly claim your prize, Solari Knight."

Diana's voice is cold and unwavering, her words cutting the stunned Targonian warlord deeper than any fabled enchanted blade made out of pure golden sunlight. The brunette's heartbeat almost stops when the Lunari priestess suddenly leans in to whisper her next words mere inches away from the tanned Sun warlord's mouth.

"Just please have the kindness not to share me with your army and friends when you get bored of me. Such a thing would certainly kill me. My own father sent me to you because I don't possess the durable body of other warriors, but the mind and the constitution of a scholar. Sharing me with your advisors _will_ kill me."

Leona's first thought is to slap the pale woman before her for even implying something as inhumane and disgusting such as this, but the brunette's body's reaction is to unwittingly pull the lithe moon maiden closer and press Diana's face against her tanned shoulder. The moon priestess freezes when her enemy and owner embraces her like this, the bitter words already formed at the tip of her tongue failing to leave the shocked young Lunari's presently gaping mouth.

"…What is the meaning of this?"

A strong battle scarred hand slowly begins stroking the betrayed princess' long silver hair even as a pair of frowning ruby lips gently brushes against the symbol of the moon decorating the stunned pale woman's forehead.

"If I had wanted to hurt you, I would have done so when your people had brought you to me like a chained dog. And yet here we are after two whole months and I haven't so much as pinched your beautiful face."

Diana stiffens at the mention of humiliation and abuse even if the cultist's mind can't help but accept the sound logic behind the words of her somber master.

" I only insist on you sleeping next to me out of fear of my warriors mistreating you when you are out of my sight, I only hold you close in my arms as to let you know that you are not defenseless and alone. I've never asked you to strip in front of me, Diana, you are the one acting like my captive."

Diana shivers, can she truly believe the female warlord's words? Can she open her heart to another person capable of shattering it once and for all with just a few mocking remarks and even fewer inconsiderate actions? Can the scorned moon maiden expect Leona, a stranger to treat her more fairly than her own countrymen that swiftly threw her into the hands of an unknown warlord? The answer remains unclear.

"You're lying." Finally mutters the betrayed woman in the dark and Leona's reaction is to once again lean in to kiss the symbol of the moon on Diana's forehead.

"You are going to backstab me if I trust you. You will betray me like when I trusted my father and my tribe and even my own pupils!"

The Solari warlord shakes her head as her fingers keep stroking the quivering pale woman's hair and the small of Diana's trembling back, the brunette warrior can only hope that the bitter Lunari will see the truth of her words and the sincerity of her actions with the passage of time.


	40. Carrion birds and immortals

**Tags: Dawnbringer Riven, Drama, Fantasy au, Friendship, Family.**

 **Beta Reader: Gmp1000**

* * *

Riven coughs splayed on the bloodstained ground, the shattered bodies of her deceased celestial brethren surrounding her weak panting form from every direction as far as the eye could see, the remnants of her once magnificent sword somehow still clenched in her feeble and bloodied grasp, now damaged and useless much like the angel's own body.

The Dawnbringer coughs once more, one heavy and unresponsive limb weakly attempting to stem the tides of red escaping from the gaps of her ruined armor, vivid creeks of liquid life uselessly leaking between the wounded angel's pale and twitching fingers. Damn bastard! The vile daemon that had both delivered the lethal blow and defeated her whole battalion didn't even have the decency to end her life instead of just leaving her there to bleed out among the corpses of her comrades and slain foes.

The Dawnbringer grunts as her vision dims, the black spots that are flickering in front of her face soon blocking out the light of the sun and stealing the pitiful blurry hues of the world from the dying angel's sight.

...

The wounded celestial is suddenly woken up by the sound of uncertain footsteps echoing in the eerie silence of the macabre battlefield. Riven remains still, only her half-lidded eyes moving to stare weakly at the burning ball high up in the sky, the corpses of her foes and brethren still smothering and crushing the dying angels' form. Keeping the broken celestial warrior concealed under the weight of the dark sticky pile.

The sound of voices fills Riven's ears, gruff yells and strained grunts echoing across the ocean of lifeless flesh as men and women of all ages and sizes wrapped in torn filthy rags start stripping the bodies of the dead and looting the spoils of the battlefield. Oh, of course. The humans would always gather around the immortals' conflicts like moths being drawn to the flame, their greedy hands tugging on the bloodstained feathers of the angels to use in their alchemical concoctions and the poisoned blades of the demons to fuel their wars and arm their weaker emaciated soldiers.

Riven examines the dirty and muddy hands of a lone scavenger as a wrinkled old lady a few paces away from her starts plucking the feathers of a dead angel, the red grimy feathers of her deceased comrade being hurriedly shoved into a grisly looking leather sack along with the golden earrings of a fallen demon and any other trinkets discovered upon the horrendous immortal battlefield. The elderly woman briefly glances at Riven's weak, fading gaze and then violently snatches a handful of the celestial's azure, light blue feathers before hastily moving away from the soon-to-be corpse. The wrinkled old scavenger's dark beady and greedy eyes already searching the battlefield for more bloodstained treasures and metal tidbits to shove into her filthy sack of coppery war trophies.

The sound of the wrinkled woman's wet footsteps fades as Riven once again blissfully passes out when another smaller shadow approaches the fallen warrior and looms over the angel's face.

...

Her body is constantly rocking back and forth when the wounded celestial warrior finally regains her consciousness, and the Dawnbringer quickly deduces that she is being transported through the means of a tumbrel of sorts from the way the pile of dead bodies around her keeps shifting underneath her and her vision is swimming across the dimming horizon.

The celestial warrior coughs weakly as the coppery taste that's clogging her throat starts constricting the insides of her esophagus like layers upon layers of old peeling paint. The wooden handcart abruptly comes to a halt as the dying angel's coughing fit draws a dribble of blood out of Riven's mouth. The dirty face of a little girl dressed in filthy brown rags suddenly occupying the majority of the injured celestial's sight.

"…"

"H-hello?"

"..."

The child is young, Riven realizes in just a few slow beats of the wounded muscle that's still somehow pulsing inside her ribcage. The Dawnbringer can't compare her unlimited lifespan to the mortal years of the silent spectator, but the small figure staring at her is short and unrefined enough for the angel to safely assume that she is dealing with a female human youngling. An exhausted pair of hopeless green eyes cautiously glares at the survivor of the death wagon with evident hostility and the injured celestial warrior is mildly stunned by the mature and guarded expression worn on the child's face. A peculiar human artifact shaped like a pair of silver swords joined around a crimson orb at the center of the construct abruptly rises behind the young orphan girl like some sort of a protective metallic bird, the deadly tips of the sentient floating blades ready to kill at the first sign of an attack or a hint of a sudden movement.

"W-what's your name?" Riven asks with a ragged breath that could have as well been her last, the foreign celestial language spilling out of the warrior's lips causing the black-haired scavenger's eyes to narrow and the floating blades to vibrate aggressively.

"Where are your parents, little one?" The dying angel shortly attempts to ask this time, but the young rascal merely shakes its head and the edges of the silver blades come to rest against the wounded celestial's throat. The Dawnbringer examines the trembling sentient weapon that's pressed against her pale flesh for a moment or two and then her eyes move back to calmly stare at those of the young human child.

"Children shouldn't be gathering corpses and wandering near fresh immortal battlefields." The injured angel states with some conviction and the steel in Riven's voice makes the rattling silver blades draw a trickle of sanguine blood by cutting a faint red line across the celestial's deathly pale epidermis.

The human girl growls something akin to a warning, but Riven can neither understand the weird sounds coming out of the child's mouth nor has the time to pay attention to the hostile girl since she passes out once more due to the pain of her wounds and the copious amount of blood that her body had lost during her confrontation with the wretched armies of Chaos.

...

There is a small hearth shedding its scarce light across the cramped and dismal room, broken celestial blades and black pieces of demonic armor are decorating the walls and forming messy bloodied piles that are littering the floor of the small wooden shack. Riven blinks as her blurry eyesight tries to adapt to the scarce lighting of the dark gloomy room, the angel's azure gaze travelling across the stolen trinkets of her deceased comrades and observing the lucky bone charms of her vile foes until she suddenly recognizes the quiet form that's cautiously staring at her from behind a rack stacked high with shards of weld shimmering metal shards and deformed pieces of rusted and broken breastplates.

The black-haired orphan merely glares at her, the little girl's animated silver blades patiently floating by the child's side as the little scavenger silently glares at the currently perplexed, wounded female celestial.

Riven blinks when her crystal blue orbs unexpectedly land on a tiny light azure feather that's clenched between the quiet orphan's muddy and shaky hands. And the Dawnbringer eyes the young mortal child curiously, mentally wondering why the human girl would even bother stealing one of her light azure feathers. Was it perhaps because her light blue plumage wasn't as stained with blood and gore or withered like the ones the child could pluck off the dead bodies of the fallen celestial warriors? Could it be that perhaps the visibly upset child merely liked the soothing color of her plumage?

The Dawnbringer blinks once more when she suddenly notices that the child has kindly placed something soft behind her pulsing bandaged head and that the upset orphan had even opted to cover her broken form with a blanket made from the torn patches of the once ornate cloaks worn by the previously deceased soldiers.

Riven offers the small human girl a smile only for the young child to instantly stiffen and dart back behind the rack with the pieces of burned ruined armor. The wounded Dawnbringer tries to speak in order to calm down the human girl, but Riven's voice fails her as the injured angel's dry throat makes the very notion of coherent speech utterly impossible.

"..."

The white-haired angel's words scatter due to the choking sounds of a coughing fit and a few painful minutes later the pale swordswoman is still trying to regain her breathing when the rim of a metal flask is unceremoniously pressed against Riven's lips and a few droplets of water drip inside the celestial woman's mouth. The Dawnbringer observes the nervous and cautious child that is hesitantly holding an ancient golden flask against her lips, the immortal swordswoman's wet blurry orbs thoughtfully examining the depictions of winged flying beast that are etched on the surface of the old artifact before Riven obliges and takes a small sip out of the small stolen canteen.

The water tastes like dust and mud mixed with the faint taste of the strong alcohol that was no doubt used to be contained inside the young orphan's war trophy. Still, the lukewarm transparent liquid manages to alleviate some of the terrible pain that has been wreaking havoc in the back of Riven's throat and the wounded angel presents the miniature scavenger with a grateful smile.

One that quickly vanishes almost instantly when the little human girl silently jumps back behind her assorted collection of dented breastplates and resumes glaring at Riven from the relative safety of the darkness.

The upset little scavenger and the wounded warrior continue staring at each other throughout the rest of the night. Riven is gripping the stained bloodied rags that are bandaging her injured chest while the young orphan is barricaded behind her old war spoils. The child's small dirty fingers absentmindedly stroking the length of her sole stolen azure-colored feather, the silver blades floating behind the dirty orphan's back occasionally fidgeting and quivering in nervousness and fright.

0000

The dirty child yawns as the young orphan girl attempts to rub away the sleep from her face and eyes. The young scavenger's emerald orbs first narrowing in evident confusion and then suddenly widening in shock when the black-haired child abruptly realizes that there is no ragged blanket keeping away the cold wind, but a pair of soft light blue wings instead that are currently forming a reassuring fortress of sorts around her little dirty body. The majestic blue blanket of feathers that's presently wrapped around the young orphan's form easily keeping the cold air of the morning at bay.

Wide green eyes rise only to meet two azure-colored orbs as the wounded angel from yesterday offers the stunned shocked child that's nestled on her lap a tiny reserved smile.

"Good morning." Mutters the white-haired angel in a language too melodic and foreign for the spooked Ionian orphan to ever comprehend as the Dawnbringer addresses her unlikely miniature savior. The small female feather-thief nervously swallows the lump that's abruptly formed in her throat, with her silver blades nervously quivering in the air and her fright clearly evident on her face as the young orphan child shakily locks eyes with the almighty recovering celestial creature.

...

Two dark cloaked forms can be seen roaming a bloodstained battlefield with a wooden tumbrel ominously rolling behind them in the crimson mud, the ominous dirty wagon tirelessly being pulled forward by the taller of the two silent cloaked shades. The carnage left behind by the clash of the two immortal armies of Order and Chaos is evident from miles upon miles away, glittering metal tin cans wrapped around torn winged corpses and broken blades with cracks running throughout their shiny surfaces comprising the spoils for the ragged legions of wandering starving beggars.

The wooden creaky wagon navigates through the seas of blood and the ocean of lifeless flesh and dead husks, the taller of the two figures stopping every few moments to toss the remnants of a bloodied cape or a handful of sticky wet bloodied feathers over the permanently stained planks of the eerie pathetic excuse of a transportation vehicle.

The smaller figure is also helping in gathering the spoils of the fallen warriors. The cloaked child hurriedly runs around the tumbrel as it examines the unmoving forms of both angels and demons before it swiftly kneels down next to their macabre broken forms in order to recover a golden tooth or a bone ring and even the occasional muddy silvery ornate bracelet.

Sometimes the smaller shade takes too long to return from its hunt for precious things and the taller figure that's dragging the handcart pauses and follows the child with its crystal blue gaze until the little girl finally returns back, before the taller of the two figures once again starts moving, silently pulling the handcart across the crimson ocean of death and the dark islands formed from the husks of lost immortal lives.

Sometimes a filthy beggar threatens the young orphan with the stolen blade looted from a fresh bleeding corpse, and sometimes the cloaked Dawnbringer steps forward and reveals her azure-colored wings in order to scare off the ragged armed offender. Riven then merely pats the top of the child's head and resumes dragging the orphan's handcart until the two of them have gathered all the war spoils and lost family heirlooms that they can find.

The celestial warrior would have certainly preferred it if she didn't have to expose the young human child to all of these grisly scenes of death and war. But her little rascal would undoubtedly be a lot safer near her newly appointed white-haired protector than not, and the young orphan would always keep clenching the recovering celestial warrior's sleeve fearing that Riven might one day suddenly disappear forever just like the girl's deceased parents.

The Dawnbringer usually responds to those anxious gestures by lifting the small child off the ground and carrying the black-haired orphan on her shoulders for an hour or two. The quiet angel usually mumbling something about a better vantage point to spot intact pieces of armor and valuable swords as Riven lets the dirty feather-thief run her small childish hands across the soft light blue plumage of her wings as the angel drags the wooden tumbrel away from the horrifying scenes of gore and terrible immortal bloodlust.

...

Sometimes the feather-thief finds the courage to press a shy kiss on top of Riven's white head and sometimes Riven minutely pauses before she resumes dragging the creaking death wagon. Sometimes the young orphan child would get confused and calls Riven, mother. The Dawnbringer doesn't say a word when that happens, but the stranded angelic warrior faintly blushes and smiles under the cover of her bloodstained hood as she keeps pulling Irelia's bloodstained death wagon forward.

The End

* * *

 **The mother of all writer notes explaining the various ideas behind the concept and the world of this au, but first a joke: I told you that Riven was the uber-secret third angel of Runeterra but nobody believed me.. Now I am just waiting for Riot to finally release the second part of my prophecy with the smuty Riven cloned brides saga and the female Zac romance.**

 **The first plot: Anyways, I was contemplating writing something about the Order Vs Chaos event and the angel version of Riven. Riven lost in the event and so my thoughts (un)naturally moved towards a defeated Riven being offered to one of Nightbringer's Yasuo's lieutenants. Morgana perhaps or maybe Syndra? But I thought that the whole concept was lacking. I could have added a spoonful of drama of course, make Riven Kayle's lover and the evil lieutenants trying to punish the Judicator through hurting Riven. Morgana especially being coy and cruel while tormenting the Dawnbringer and then make up something to add a handful of light in the darkness. Maybe Morgana starts seeing herself in the remnants of the still defiant broken angel or maybe she slowly falls for Riven. As you might have noticed I just love those kinds of cliché love stories.**

 **The final concept and musings concerning this au: A thought then hit me like a Sion ulty and really startled me even though it dealt no damage. Where are the humans in the Order Vs Chaos universe? We see angels and demons, but not a single human warrior? A dystopian universe quickly sprouted from that tiny random thought. An au where the immortal wars have all but annihilated the human race which now lives as carrion birds and jackals feeding off the spoils of the immortals' desolated battlefields. It is a dark au where human's are weak parasites feeding off the strife that once destroyed them, they gather angelic artifacts, turn the bones of slayn demons into jewelry and daggers, they fill their pillowcases with the bloodied feathers of dead celestials fighters and probably even partake in cannibalism if the can't gather enough precious trinkets to exchange for food in the bigger human settlements.**

 **I have a little theory about how Riven survived in case anyone is peeved by the whole miraculous recovery. The flask with the water may be the key here, an once lost ancient artifact bestowed with healing properties by an ancient celestial spell caster. The flask lost most of its power through the passage of time, but it still contains some remaining healing properties. Not enough for Irelia to actually notice them of course, but certainly enough to fend off disease and make Riven's healing factor kick in just in time to save her. That's why Riven observed the flask and its depictions before finally drinking from it :) . That's why the wounded angel thinks of it as an artifact :) . The golden flask is also the reason that Irelia hasn't gotten sick while practically bathing in the gore and blood of dead bodies. The flask is an invaluable treasure that protects the orphan child without Irelia's knowledge as the child struggles to survive alone in the vast desolate wasteland that was created by the wars of the mighty immortals.**

 **But the Strife unwittingly safeguarded a human child due to the death of one celestial creature.**

 **Lastly Irelia adopted Riven in a previous story so it is now the Dawnbringer's turn to take care of the Ionian orphan.**

 **Plots within Plots. -Drawing  
**


	41. Carrion birds and immortals P2

**A continuation of the previous one-shot.**

 **Tags: Dawnbringer Riven, Irelia, Drama, Fantasy au, Friendship, Family.**

* * *

There is no sign of life for miles other than the two cloaked figures that are currently pushing the small wooden handcart forward. A gentle gust of wind is whipping the cracked soil of the desolate wasteland, lifting a few specks of dust and black ashes before violently tossing them back all over the miniature schisms of the dry brown ground. The two cloaked figures seem to be blatantly ignoring the brutal tantrums of the visibly hostile environment and the absence of life surrounding them. Solemn ghosts marching upon a dead world the corpse-gatherers walk under the heat of the blazing sun with sweat glistering under the dark fabrics of their hoods and unwavering conviction shinning in their respective gazes. The heat of the barren desert is inconceivable, the glare of the red fiery ball that's high up in the sky seemingly determined to sap the little strength the corpse-gatherers have left in their bodies.

A golden flask is passed between the two quiet figures, small sips of liquid life struggling to alleviate the pain in their dry throats as the two cloaked jackals of the battlefield continue marching on and on and on. Like soulless automatons mindlessly crawling under the bright sky. The mute shades' feet causing the cracked earth underneath them to crunch and sink even lower under the travelers' tired heels, the sound of the creaking tumbrel that's parting the frail ground around it accompanying the humanoid carrion birds on their oh so exhausting and solemn journey.

Like a burning ocean that's surrounding a rocky islet, the endless desert of the unnamed Wasteland appears to be stretching endlessly all around the quiet exhausted travelers, drowning their sights in hues of black, maroon, and brown, and greeting them with frequent waves of searing heat and scattered ashes shoved on their faces.

Sometimes the two cloaked shades stumble across the brittle skeleton of another traveler. A grim reminder of their mortality with bones utterly striped of their former flesh and lifeless arms that are still hopelessly extending towards the direction of the nearby human city. The taller of the two figures refuses to drink from the golden flask after witnessing the fifth such mortal reminder pathetically nestled in the shade of a crooked burned tree. The adult jackal swiftly motions for the child that's accompanying it to jump on top of the death wagon. Conserving their strength might mean the difference between life and death in the long run after all, but the other, shorter scavenger merely shakes their head and ignores the frowning pale woman's suggestion.

The winged cloaked jackal sighs as Riven's crystal blue orbs instantly dart back to the sight of the human settlement that's been steadily climbing on the horizon for at least an hour or so now. The iron city's pitiful metal carcass is silently glistering under the impossibly hot sun, the human settlement's enormous dark spirals of twisted metal and the patched improvised flags fluttering on the top of their sharp black arcs appearing the size of fuzzy toothpicks from the great distance.

Riven spares a moment to glance thoughtfully at the young cloaked child that's walking by the wooden handcart. Little Irelia is obviously panting, the poor girl is clearly exhausted even if the shorter scavenger refuses to admit it. The black-haired orphan's tired small feet moving at a brisk pace in order to catch up with the creaking wobbly tumbrel. The Dawnbringer attempts to gesture towards the top of the death wagon once more, but the stubborn little rascal simply continues ignoring her. Tsk!

The celestial warrior frowns, but Riven opts to just devote her attention to dragging forward her bloodstained cargo and the handcart instead of arguing with the small feather-thief that's walking by her side. The stranded celestial can't help but wonder though about how the poor orphan girl would have accomplished reaching the distant ruined city by herself in the past, especially since the young scavenger wouldn't only have to travel to the old crumbling settlement, but do so while also dragging her filthy death wagon there.

Some kind of hellish mutated carrion bird suddenly croaks obnoxiously while circling above the travelers' heads and the gruff Dawnbringer can only grit her teeth and keep marching forward while inwardly cursing the loud cowardly vulture. More sweat slowly rolls down the adult jackal's white eyebrow. Irelia waits for another moment or two and then the annoyed young feather-thief abruptly shoves her precious golden flask towards the stranded angel's lips. Riven blink in surprise after witnessing the young child's extremely serious expression. Jade-colored orbs angrily glaring into the depths of the pale angel's azure mirrors and Riven finally accepts the water after perceiving the amount of fear and anxiety that's contained in the little rascal's fleeting stare.

Oh..

Irelia is afraid that her only friend in this world is going to pass out in the middle of nowhere due to her own stubbornness and dehydration. The white-haired angel returns the golden flask after a quick and exaggerated sip of its contents and the little orphan doesn't utter a word when the cloaked winged woman momentary leans down to pat the top of the young scavenger's hooded head reassuringly.

...

This vile excuse for a town doesn't even resemble anything that the immortal warrior has ever witnessed before. The scavengers and the bandits of the wasteland seem to have taken residence inside the decrepit remains of the ancient rusted skyscrapers, constructing little crooked nests like insects inside and around these corroded forgotten buildings and setting up shops at the shadows of the sleeping abandoned titans.

Dirty children and beggars alike are eyeing the travelers' tumbrel greedily as Irelia and her cloaked celestial guardian tiredly enter the crowded confines of the dilapidated human settlement. A few tanned armed city guards make as if to approach them and bar their way before they suddenly lay eyes on the familiar face of the young orphan scavenger and unexpectedly decide to move on without a single word of acknowledgement to the mysterious cloaked travelers that entered their town. Just how often did the quiet little feather-thief travel all the way to this lost settlement for the guards to actually remember her face?

The gruff voices of loud merchants and enraged scavengers can be heard from somewhere beyond the hunched skeletons of the rusted ancient buildings, the jackals and carrion birds of the immortal battlefields haggling over the potential prices of their broken artifacts and the meager trinkets and exotic possessions that the violent crooks had managed to gather under the burning light of the scorching sun while bathing in crimson.

The cloaked orphan already motions for Riven to pull their creaky tumbrel towards the cacophony of human activity and the Dawnbringer instantly complies after she spares a quick glance at the dirty handcart to make sure that their precious cargo was still covered by a heavy piece of permanently bloodstained filthy brown canvas. The death wagon creaks forward as the disguised celestial's crystal blue orbs wander across the narrowed pairs of eyes that are watching them through the cracks on the walls of pitiful shacks and the shadows of the shattered metal buildings alike.

Irelia's silvery blades abruptly lift-off in the air as a warning of sorts to the other hungry jackals of the razed wastes and a few of those starving dogs pause to examine the peculiar design of the sentient weapon with some degree of envy swirling in their visibly irritated gazes before the ghosts of humanity soundlessly retreat back into their dusty and sunless rickety residences. The dark kennels that they themselves had built through their own sweat, tears and blood that they were regrettably doomed to inhabit.

Riven continues to spare occasional glances towards the shady predatory forms that are lurking inside their rusted and barren husks of coppery metal and human misery as the death wagon slowly leaves that part of the town behind. The tumbrel's wooden wheels nosily bumping against the numerous cracks of the old shattered cobblestone road.

...

It is almost late afternoon and the sky has already started to somewhat dim down when the cloaked green-eyed orphan leads the celestial warrior outside of a shop that's smothered in the shadows of two hunched, crumbling skyscrapers. That particular shop is nothing more than a big shed consisting of wooden planks, stitched pieces of stained and shredded fabrics of various colors and blackened sheets of metal that were once no doubt melted down and formed by destroying breathtaking celestial breastplates and legendary demon swords of great beauty and historical value.

Irelia mutedly points at a faded sign that's hanging at the side of the building. The metal plate must have been some kind of sign pointing to a road or even a famous landmark in the past perhaps because the remnants of a big faded white arrow are still there, pointing at a utterly meaningless direction now that the owner of the store had decided to hang the metal signpost vertically instead of horizontally as to make the faded white arrow point straight at the forbidding door of his shabby establishment.

The Dawnbringer's eyes narrow as the perplexed celestial female attempts to make out the terrible scribbles that are etched on the surface of the tilted signpost, but the cloaked pale woman only manages to make out a G, an R and a particularly misshapen A before Irelia starts tugging on her sleeve impatiently.

The stranded celestial warrior raises a sole pale eyebrow as she curiously observes the pouting orphan's frustrated scowl and then blinks as the little feather-thief starts frantically gesturing towards the setting afternoon sun and the slummy store and the heavy handcart and all of the eerily silent and seemingly uninhabited buildings in their near vicinity. Riven smiles apologetically under the cover of her brown hood and then proceeds to pull the wooden tumbrel inside the shop through a side-entrance under the agitated stare of the pouting orphan and the angry girl's snappy instructions.

* * *

0000

"-relia"

"-gas"

The Dawnbringer doesn't pay too much attention to the fat ginger-haired man or the tired orphan as the crafty little feather-thief starts trading her wares with the owner of the dusty dimly lighted establishment. Riven prefers to catch her breath after dragging the wooden tumbrel for so long and maybe examine the goods of the first human shop the angel has ever set foot inside in her long lifetime.

Much like the little scavenger's secluded shack in the middle of nowhere the majority of the shops wares are apparently focused around the spoils of immortal battlefields and the two age-less races' destructive clashes. There are scratched swords and bent diadems, precious gemstones that were previously parts of ornate sets of majestic celestial armors and bloodstained gauntlets inscribed with vile words in the foul language of the wretched daemons. There are pouches and bags filled with the gory plumages of slain angels, whole sacks containing demon horns and an endless assortment of nondescript bones shoved into leather rucksacks of all sizes that are patiently waiting to be sorted out.

Riven shivers as her gaze helplessly wanders across the sea of dusty shelves that are weighted down by the remains of both her foes and comrades, her initial horror quickly turning into shock and then anger when the disgusted angel warrior abruptly spots a collection of pouches filled with bone meal made from the butchered bodies of fallen immortal corpses. Such an ironic twist of fate. The immortals had destroyed the human race with their wars and their arrogance and now the survivors of humanity were using the dead bodies of their proud warriors to sustain their pitiful existences.

And while that might have been perhaps a truly suitable punishment for all of those that had previously basically ruined the sons and daughters of man, the thought of such a dishonorable use for the body of a fallen warrior was something that irked the Dawnbringed to no end and made her blood boil. Especially since considering that if it wasn't for the kindness of the lonely orphan girl and the cute little rascal's compassionate actions the disguised cloaked angel would have certainly ended up the same way as those slain immortals that were now resting inside their dusty crushed bags and sordid leather pouches.

Riven takes a deep breath as she wills her fists to unclench and the light blue pair of wings behind her back to settle down before the burly gluttonous desert merchant notices them twitching under the cover of her weathered cloak. The white-haired woman leisurely moving to stand closer to the orphan that's presently haggling over the price of her morbid war trophies.

The young scavenger merely peeks at the brooding celestial for a second before the flustered orphan resumes showing the fat store owner a collection of shattered metal shards and scorched blades and pouches filled with smeared ivory feathers. The yelling orphan's hands frantically gesturing at her macabre collection of useless junk as the middle-aged merchant nodes or waves and seems to be palming random trinkets off Irelia's offered grisly pile.

The Dawnbringer silently observes the two yelling, and strangely enough, smiling opponents as the little scavenger and the ginger bearded man continue exchanging their wares with determination and swiftness comparable to an immortal soldier entering the flay of battle. The ginger-haired man seems intent on buying every sharp piece of metal and broken sword or weapon that he can spot in the feather-thief's pile. His greedy fingers even going as far as gesturing towards the floating silver blades that are quietly floating behind the little red-faced rascal's back. Whereas the cloaked child scavenger seems more interested in restocking on food and water. Irelia slaps the burly merchant's fat fingers away from her sentient silver blades and shoves another rusty dagger and an empty sheath and after some careful consideration what looks like three golden demon teeth in front of the clearly unamused trader before the evidently smug gluttonous man rewards the little girl with a sealed wooden container and a few tiny semitransparent crystals.

Riven frowns as the hooded celestial curiously examines the miniature crystals from afar, her frown remaining until the puzzled angel abruptly realizes that the milky white _crystals_ weren't actually dangerous magical gemstone containing powerful ivory mana, but simply some kind of sugar-based candy for children.

The fat trader openly guffaws when the little scavenger girl angrily points at another box filled with a much bigger quantity of semitransparent crystal-candies and the young orphan visibly deflates when the middle-aged man instantly shakes his head right and left in disagreement. The little feather-thief slowly rises from her stool with a deep, deep sigh. The little black-haired troublemaker braves an uncertain glance at the hidden face of the hooded celestial warrior that's standing next to her and then the orphan grudgingly gestures for the smug, grinning trader to approach her dusty death wagon.

The celestial swordswoman quickly takes note of how the orphan's floating silver blades remain behind them for just a brief second or two and then lunge down to steal one of the semitransparent crystal-candy shards from the big wooden box when the fat merchant is too distracted by following the young orphan girl to notice its absence. The hovering silver blades then hastily fly back next to Irelia in order to toss the stolen candy-shard at the awaiting hands of the small criminal and the Ionian child hurriedly pockets it.

Meanwhile the gruff merchant that's presently standing in front of Irelia with his back turned to her grins in anticipation as the middle-aged bearded trader proceeds to remove the rough canvas cover from the morbid handcart and inspect the rest of the little thief's grim cargo. The young orphan spares another unsure glance at her newly appointed, exclusive guardian angel to check if the silent female warrior had realized her theft before the fidgeting girl suddenly averts her gaze when the two women's eyes abruptly meet behind the turned back of the apparently excited shop owner.

"Bah!"

The ginger-haired fat merchant comically grunts either displeased by the remaining goods of the little scavenger or trying to lower the price of the child's gathered wares, and the young orphan is for some reason particularly silent during this last exchange. The quiet girl's eyes are downcast as Irelia mutedly nods her head in agreement with the fat merchant's demands and accepts his deal without any complaints.

The burly man then abruptly turns to gesture at the disguised Dawbringer and utters an impatient command of some sort and all the color suddenly drains from the young orphan's face. Irelia's eyes widen.

"..?"

Riven approaches the two humans as her savior starts yelling and gesturing wildly at the bearded man, the orphan's small shaky fingers gradually forming tight firsts as Irelia starts pointing towards the deceased angel and demon corpses that are still loaded on the bloodstained handcart and then at herself before hastily pointing at the cloaked immortal celestial warrior that's observing her curiously before the girl shakes her head in a defiant show of denial.

*Snort

But the burly man just grunts something dismissive once more and utters something under his breath. Irelia stomps her foot on the floor stubbornly, the bored merchant doesn't seem to care about the orphan girl's wishes however since he keeps glaring at Riven impatiently and motioning for the cloaked winged jackal to carry the dead bodies away from the tumbrel and into another chamber.

The thoughtful celestial complies without a word, carefully lifting the corpses the stranded swordswoman obediently carries the first mangled body inside a back room much like a slaughterhouse with piles upon piles of immortal carcasses and limbs scattered across the grimy and gory counters of stained wood and the sticky red floor that smells strongly of iron and copper.

The shocked swordswoman spots stained packages with angel and demon meat, unseeing eyes staring at her from the rich collection of boxes and jars that are peeking at her from the room's inky black, ominous shadows. Torn wings, crushed bones and dotted feathers are surrounding the horrified woman from every direction.

Now Riven knows how a man can get so fat when everything in this world is withering and dying away. Now she knows why the human child would look so reluctant to let her carry the dead bodies to this slaughterhouse. The Dawnbringer gently places down the remains of a grey-skinned demon on top of a bloodstained counter and then returns back at the front room in order to do the same with the rest of the orphan's reeking _wares_. The little black-haired girl is still decidedly staring at her feet with sad and upset eyes and Riven can also make out that she is clenching a lone azure-colored feather between her shaky dirty hands, stroking the soft blue object absentmindedly.

The little girl looks about to cry as she tensely waits for the Dawnbringer's reaction. Waiting for the celestial warrior to judge her sins and crimes. Riven sighs, after the hooded angel makes her last trip to the slaughter room and proceeds to dump the demon's body on top of a random counter the stranded celestial swordswoman leans down to tenderly wrap her hands around the poor child's trembling form and press her pale chin against the little girl's crown.

It is really unfortunate, but the pale-haired woman can't offer the little feather-thief any words that the child would understand. The Dawnbringer has spent mere months at the company of the currently trembling troublemaker. That's not enough time for Riven to learn how to convey her thoughts in the orphan child's language. The former soldier doesn't know the magical words that will stop the little scavenger's tears and make the feather-thief smile once more.

What the hooded angel can convey is that she understands why young Irelia would do such terrible and even despicable things. What she can offer at the crying child is merely her honest and unbiased acceptance of the little carrion bird's identity and forgive the small scavenger for her past and future crimes.

Because the celestial warrior knows that it wasn't the little feather-thief that almost ended the world so many eons ago, or the fat merchant that's observing them curiously that forced this child to roam the horrendous battlefields and trade feathers and bones for her bread, milk and water. And wasn't it perfectly normal for small toddlers to love eating sweets and candy? And yet this bawling creature created by war, the sobbing orphan of the wastelands that was silently begging her for forgiveness would have to literally crawl in blood and gore for hours upon hours every day under the hot scorching desert sun just to taste a tiny crystal-candy's ephemeral sweetness.

Riven remains perfectly still as the bawling orphan's small arms suddenly tighten around her waist, the delicate light blue feather still clenched between the little child's trembling and smeared fingers as young Irelia presses her face against the chest of the kind white-haired angel. For how long was this poor tormented creature forced to endure her loneliness in the barren wastelands of this world? For how many nights did her precious little feather-thief cry alone inside her moldy secluded shack with no one there to care enough to stop the flood of her tears?

The Dawbringer sighs as she glares at the visibly annoyed trader to discourage the fat burly man from commenting on what's happening in front of his smart beady eyes. A small reassuring sound already building up inside the celestial warrior's chest before it climbs out of her breasts and abruptly reaches the crying orphan's ears.

The stunned merchant looks at the hooded female incredulously, the child in her arms appearing surprised and Riven unwittingly blushes when the orphan's bawling slowly stops only to turn into happy confused giggling! The Dawnbringer cringes even if her crystal blue orbs betray her real emotions, the ones that aren't worn on her red stern face that's attempting to hide her embarrassment.

Just look at her, a mighty elite angel warrior and a veteran immortal soldier like herself now cooing like an overgrown pigeon just to calm down this dirty little rascal with the grabby dirty hands that enjoys nothing more than stroking her light blue plumage. But the sound of the orphan girl's relieved laughter soon dispels those bitter thoughts from the mind of the grumpy angel.

 _It is worth it_ , Riven grudgingly admits when after a mere single strained heartbeat of her once injured muscle the tiny jackal that's giggling against her chest seemingly calms down and relaxes completely. _Protecting the smile of this poor tormented creature is worth acting like an idiot_ , the stranded angel decides as a tiny childish hand hesitantly starts stroking the brown fabric of her cloak above her right wing. little eager fingers carefully caressing her hidden plumage.

 _Protecting her little feather-thief is worth it._

The white-haired angel suddenly rises with Irelia still hanging from her arms, crystal blue orbs staring fixedly at the beady eyes of the shocked fat merchant as the celestial swordswoman slowly raises one hand with her palm facing skywards and wills her unworldly magic to form an azure orb of pure light. A psychical manifestation of her soul, a crystallization of her magical power. A symbol of hope. An oath to protect the happiness of the fragile being that stole one of her precious feathers and somehow managed to save both her mind and her life. Riven's celestial essence instantly cools down to create a magnificent semitransparent orb with tiny sparks and soothing azure and white glimmers of light that are swimming inside the depths of the immortal artifact like radiant fishes wandering under the pulsing waves of a gentle azure ocean. The newly formed artifact's inner light curiously enough humming in perfect synch with the little feather-thief's now quiet and steadier awed breathing.

The stranger with the eyes of clear blue sky and the shifting and twitching brown cloak smiles politely at the speechless desert merchant that's staring at the little rascal's companion with big wide eyes the size of saucers as if he is actually seeing a ghost. Or an angel.

"I'll trade you the candy for the orb." Declares the cloaked stranger in a weird language the melodic hues of which can only belong to the likes of angels or other celestials and at that moment the shop owner's eyes almost burst out of his eye sockets. The bearded man's throat goes dry. The cloaked stranger then proceeds to carefully place the shiny sphere in the hands of the stunned trader and point at the box with the ivory semitransparent sweets as if honestly asking for the speechless burly man's permission to take her reward.

Gragas can only blink and nod his head in agreement and the pale woman instantly seizes the sweets only to offer them at her suddenly shy and embarrassed young feather-thieving companion.

...

The shop owner is still clenching the magical orb in his fat sweaty hands when the two women casually leave the establishment with the taller of the two wasteland jackals dragging away the creaking handcart with ease and the smiling orphan happily eating her candy while walking by her celestial protector's side.

Only when the child and the angel disappear from the burly man's sight and the ginger-haired merchant is left alone in his shop with his thoughts and the humming of the beautiful orb pulsing in his palms does Gragas dare to breathe. Only then does the wasteland trader dare to collapse on the stained dirty floor of his store and take a few frantic breaths in order to avoid downright fainting. Only then does the scared ginger-haired trader realizes what has just happened.

J-just how in the shattered world did Irelia, that parentless scavenger brat manage to form an alliance with a celestial creature of such immense power?! Now he'll have to stop tricking her when she visits his shop and start offering her some decent and normal deals! Fucking waste-rat-

As if sensing his impure thoughts the azure orb of the Dawnbringer abruptly hums loudly and lightly zaps the ginger bearded man's fat fingers.

The end

* * *

 **Like stealing candy from a wasteland merchant: Well, you guys wanted more of the story. I didn't have much to add to the whole concept, but I thought that I could expand the lore of this world a little bit and show you a human settlement. There was one major change that happened in this story and that being the crystals that Irelia was so adamant to purchase. The crystals were initially broken Hex-tech crystal shards from the old world that the scavengers of the new wastes would use as sources of power and maybe channel the remaining magic of the shards to purify their food and water and make them consumable. I am not sure if that would happen through hex-tech-powered mini distilleries/purifiers or just hocus-pocus, but yeah that was the first idea. Also the little crystals might be used to power up Irelia's blades since there was never an explanation for the floating weapon's functions or origins in this story. Maybe it is an old celestial artifact that the orphan found in a battlefield and uses hex-shards to power and control it since Irelia lacks the magical powers of an angel.**

 **I had written the story like I just explained, but then there was this thought that kept bothering me while I started editing the chapter. Irelia is still a child, yes she is a survivalist and she would want to buy useful things like good that would help her survive until she has gathered more trinkets to sell at the town. And yet she is really young and grew up without parents so no one would have taught her how to control her desires for things or stopped her from buying whatever she wanted if she had the money/things to trade. Making the crystals candy works better in that regard. Irelia's cute stubbornness and determination to taste the candy showcases her character and her childish traits and also gives the story a more dramatic twist. Irelia wanted the candy and unwittingly almost destroyed her friendship with Riven because of her thoughtless selfishness, she then realized that and started crying. It makes a lot of more sense for Irelia to react like that because she recognized her error of putting her friendship at risk while buying something useless over buying something really important that she needed like magical fuel for her only weapon. What's your opinion? Also, I drew something, I might use it for a cover so let's all pretend that it looks like part of Gragas' shop. Or not, I just like drawing black lines.  
**

 **I am too sleepy and tired to think of a joke right now so here's a little poem I had ready.**

Teemo forgives, but never forgets unless he can eat the inside of your chest.  
On the darkest mushroom in a day without light, even Lee sin would shudder at the dark yordle's sight.  
His teeth like swords, his fluffy face so cute, Teemo watches you whenever you are nude.  
Whenever you eat, you smile or you even sleep, you might feel the dark yordle's cruel grip.  
He is an army of one, a splinter of two worlds. His lust for power devours his foes' souls.  
Such tragedy, such horror, such a sad piece of art.  
The dark yordle smiles behind your turned back.  
A litany of cries won't save you from his wrath.  
The Swift Scout is coming, his footsteps muddled with blood.  
And if you are laughing or somehow found amusement by reading these words  
Bow down swine, to Teemo, the Twister of Souls!

-From a collection of Noxian lullabies. 1022X, at least two decades before the emergence of the Mushroom Empire and the Shroom Knight-cultists.


	42. Sleeping Habits

**Tag: Some mentions of Yuri, Diana, Leona, Pillows, Puns. Don't turn around to look, but Teemo is standing right behind you.  
**

* * *

It was nighttime, approximately three hours before dawn. The whole Institute of War was currently sleeping. Wrapped inside their warm, fuzzy blankets and resting on their comfortable, fluffy pillows the mighty champions of the League were presently slumbering. Soft sleepy breaths and murmured moans mixing in with the constant flickering of the blue magical orbs that were illuminating the great building's empty corridors. The pulsing and wavering light of said magical orbs also adding to the eerie atmosphere that was permeating the night's dark mysterious air.

Ryze, the blue-skinned rune mage was snoring loudly. The old wizard's scrunched up and visibly grimacing blue face pressed against a pile of scrolls and faded grimoires, the ancient runic tattoos decorating the man's body glowing faintly in the scarce dim light of the quiet chamber. Lulu, the Fae Sorceress was also soundlessly asleep in her respective room, her tiny body splayed over the mattress, little purple arms wrapped around her admittedly colorful pillow which was spotting all the countless colors and hues of an utterly drunk rainbow.

Was Lulu really asleep though? Any observant stalker would have to ask themselves that very question after spotting the accused monstrosity of a cushion that was capable of giving any lesser person an epileptic seizure. The strange colorful pillow almost glowing lightly in hypnotic hues of green, purple and vibrant yellows, its nauseating patterns seemingly shifting with each passing second. But then again, the female yordle seemed fine upon first inspection and Lulu's dear friend Pix would have no doubt alerted a Summoner or a healer of sorts if the Fae Sorceress' sleeping circumstances were anything less than normal. Well, as normal as anything could really be concerning the oddball spell caster.

And so we hurriedly leave the dark room by stealthily tiptoeing around the scattered remains of a wooden toybox and the sea of balls, puzzles, dolls and all kinds of soft toys that are littering the sorceress' floor. The small tsunami of toys apparently threatening to spill out of the female yordle's room and drown the whole world in a deadly flood of cyan, fluorescent green and dark-rainbow. Oh and purple of course! Lots and lots of swirling and shifting magenta items.

Darkness, impermeable, inky black ebony veils of sweet darkness and magical runic fire that's casting long shadows over the walls and the dusty cobblestone ground. That's the first thing we notice upon finally fleeing from the scene of the female yordle's despicable room. The narrator stays still for a few more moments, taking silent, deep (and almost painful) breaths, relishing in the sudden abundance of neon colors and bright electric blue as the chromatic state of the universe suddenly returns back to its blessed normal state. Restoring some semblance of normalcy to this cruel world and spreading hope in the heart of the occasional reader.

But as a wise dear old chronomage would have sternly reminded us, _time waits for no one, except from when you are trying to queue as a mid laner of course, then time stands still and Heimerdinger loses his marbles._

With a heavy heart and visibly shaky yet clearly determined footsteps we press onwards, deeper into the old grey corridors and the mysterious domain of the League champions that are residing inside the ancient walls of the Institute. Our each step taking as closer to new, mind-boggling discoveries and facepalms beyond our deepest fears.

Mere corridors farther and less than a couple of minutes after our first encounter with the elusive Fae Sorceress, our keen and intuitive eyes alert us to the subtle changes in the decor as we approach one of the wings housing the majority of the Targonian representatives.

The magical rune-fire grows stronger here, the colors seem to brighten, the ceiling rises in order to better accommodate the imposing builds of the huge Targonians as Demacian banners and Noxian flags give way to ancient inscriptions depicting tall armored figures dancing under the golden rays of the sun and young disciplined warriors standing vigilantly against the armies of barbaric invaders. It is at this exact moment in time that a soft sleepy murmur suddenly draws our avid attention, startling us and yet also captivating us. Beckoning us closer towards the inconspicuous opening of the large wooden door that's staring at us expectantly from the other end of the empty hallway as if begging us to investigate this odd disturbance and uncover the room's bountiful secrets.

And so we do, oh dear friends, as once again we answer to the call of adventure. Bravely taking a peek into the belly of the slumbering beast, our gaze hovers quietly over the dark forms of the carved furniture until we stumble upon a mostly peculiar of sights. A spectacle so startling and bizarre that could no doubt fuel the minds of many poets and writers and give birth to countless stories and fanfictions.

Leona, the Radiant Dawn herself is snoring peacefully in the safety of her king-sized bed. Dressed in a light pink t-shirt and red shorts, with small moans and airy whispers occasionally escaping from her smiling lips the Solari's grip tightens around her poor stuffed plushy. A silver-haired doll with black buttons for eyes, shaped in the likeness of a certain solitary grumpy moon worshipper.

A few moments drag by in silence, the only sound occasionally disturbing this awkward display of affection coming from the joyous hums and purrs emanating from the deepest parts of the sleeping Rakorian woman's throat. The little Diana plushy trapped in her arms still staring straight ahead at the wall with cold and lifeless button-eyes, as if the doll itself is quietly lamenting its own existence. Abruptly as if sensing the poor toy's plight and deciding to comfort the miniature Lunari toy Leona pauses and opens a single warm bleary brown eye. The avatar of the Sun quietly stares at the stuffed toy lovingly before Leona presses a chaste kiss against the pale plushy's small face... Right before the sleepy brunette starts sensually licking the trapped toy's earlobe...!

Leona's bleary brown eye finally closes after a few more seconds of molesting her beloved stuffed captive and then the room is once again engulfed in the light snores of the content sun worshipper. The little Diana doll remains still as if frozen in place. Its tiny beady eyes distant and dead. The majority of the plushy's face drenched in Leona's saliva, the Lunari doll's head hung low as if the stuffed toy had just given up on life.

Abruptly enough a sudden inhale of breath announces the presence of another intruder other than us inside the dark spacious room of the brunette Sun avatar, a pale female figure that has been expertly hidden among the shadows of the dimly lit chamber until now.

The infamous Scorn of the Moon seems shocked at what she has just witnessed, scared even as Diana's wide grey orbs anxiously dart between her old sleeping nemesis and the stuffed Lunari doll that's clasped in the possessive hands of the Radiant Dawn. And the stunned heretic's silver eyebrows almost threaten to disappear underneath her argent hairline when Leona suddenly giggles in her sleep and gives the small plushy another quick loving smoochie.

"Mmm, Diana, just where did you find that cute nurse uniform you are wearing? I love it as much as the kitty ears."

Diana blinks at her enemy owlishly, a small hint of rouge slowly seeping underneath the moon knight's fair features even as a frigid chill suddenly runs down the length of the pale solitary female's spine. Something small abruptly slips and falls from the shaky, numb digits of the accursed moon heretic. The soft object rolling against the wooden floor until it finally stops right next to the bed of the Scorn's lifelong rival. A Leona plushy, complete with a tiny stuffed sword and a soft yellow shield and the smudges of messy silver lipstick trailing down the tiny doll's mouth and face...

"Mmm, yes Diana, such a loyal and devoted acolyte, offering your shapely body to me in order to save your doomed village from my wrath... Fine then young maiden, step forward and make love to your new goddess."

The pale woman slowly blinks once more. A wonderful blush already painting the pale majority of Diana's face, the heretic's jumbled thoughts presently occupied by images of the filthy sun-kisser and her in the most compromising of positions. The moon knight abruptly takes a deep noisy breath and steps forward. Diana then violently tosses Leona's favorite plushy on the wooden floor before wrapping her slender arms around her vile Sun-kisser.

Leona instantly wakes up from the heretic's touch and said sun-kisser can merely gasp upon seeing the uninvited intruder that's in her chambers. The brunette's brown eyes almost buldging out of her head in an apparent show of shock and confusion.

And so we flee from the room ladies & gents, racing for the open door as Leona's startled shouts suddenly turn into moans of pleasure and the first article of clothing lands over the terrified visage of a wide-eyed silver-haired doll. Two tiny pairs of black lifeless button-eyes silently follow us as we leave, their accusing glares somehow still reaching us even as we dive out of the room and into a long marble staircase.

The mute cries of the unfortunate stuffed dolls forever haunting our dreams, filling us with immense guilt for leaving them behind as Leona's hoarse voice unexpectedly rises towards the heavens.

"Say it, Di! Don't make me bring out the handcuffs and those mouth restraint-thingies!"

"P-praise the sun" Whimpers the blushing moon knight.

And as the weird ragged noises and the throaty moans coming from Leona's room seem to intensify and the narrator finally reaches the doorway and practically flies out of the Institute's building, no one notices the depressed form of poor Pantheon that's sobbing in the confines of his private room. The mighty Targonian warrior is silently crying curled up on the floor of an adjacent chamber to Leona's. An old picture of the Radiant Dawn firmly pressed against the armored man's toned chest even as Diana's voice suddenly pierces the paper-thin walls of the wannabe baker's chambers.

"So you like it rough, huh Leo? Then I am gonna spank your Sun-kissing butt until it is all black and blue like your weak sun-god during a solar eclipse!"

"OHhh! Ohhh! Arrrgh! Go on Di, it hurts so good and I think that I'm a pervert!"

"Call me mistress Moonwhip, bitch! Thank me for teaching you your place as my slave."

" Y- yes, mistress Moonwhip! T-thank you!"

And so this story ends here, forgotten in the dark deserted hallways of the institute of War. Hidden behind either locked or open doors and dim lit chambers, shy embraces and affectionate gazes that are stalking dark figures nestling inside the peaceful air of the night. And even as the voices of the two Targonian Avatars suddenly reach their peaks and a now catatonic armored warrior gazes intently at the knots of the noose he has just constructed, the secrets of the Institute and its residents once again remain undiscovered as the glorious pyre of the sun slowly climbs over the sky's black horizon. Bathing the dark shades of the world in pure radiant golden light.

"Yes, yes Leona! Keep doing that thing with your tongue! Just think of my body as forbidden tasty moonshine that you have to devour in order to please me! Your mistress demands absolute compliance from you, you useless thrall, now climb back up here and kiss me like you mean it."

Pantheon whimpers, one foot already on top of the rickety old stool as he eyes the length of rope that's hanging from the room's ceiling solemnly.

* * *

 **Writer's note: A simple lighthearted story and one of my more tame works featuring Diana and Leona. This story is pretty old and was a separate part of a scrapped series that was supposed to explore the sleep habits of some champions and League couples. Chapter 18 was also part of that collection and I can still faintly recall something about a romantic Shyvana one-shot the plot of which I can't quite remember, being the first chapter of the series. I like the invention of the respective Sun and Moon avatars sleeping with plushies of their nemesis and nursing a secret crush on each other. Imagine a story where one of the two champions was turned into a plushy by a spell caster and then given to the other avatar as a jest for example. The unsuspecting champion then confesses her feelings of love to the** _ **stuffed toy**_ **while practicing to someday reveal her feelings to her _hateful_ longtime rival. Like always feel free to use any of my ideas if you want to write something along those lines or just like a prompt. Have a nice day.**


	43. Angels and Demons

**Tags: Vayne, Kayle, Yuri, Drama Hurt/Comfort.**

* * *

Vayne blinks in confusion when the infamous Night Hunter abruptly finds the proud Judicator sleeping soundly on a bench in the Institute's Garden. The blonde angel's fair face is uncovered for once and Kayle's long golden trenches are splayed around the unconscious woman's head like some kind of flowing organic hallo. The vampiric Night Hunter pauses for a moment or two, Shauna's perplexed ruby eyes intently wandering across the sleeping angel's visibly red face, the nocturnal huntress' nostrils actually flaring in disgust from the strong scent of alcohol that's practically engulfing the winged woman's body.

Was Kayle drunk perhaps? That had to really be the case judging by the way the blushing blonde celestial had curled up on top of the secluded garden bench, Kayle's favorite helmet resting against the celestial warrior's chest, her hands unwittingly grasping the heavy metallic object like it was some kind of a strange armored teddy bear.

Vayne then spots the transparent trails of fresh tears that are still visible on the winged beauty's face, she listens to Kayle's hitched breaths, examines her fidgeting hands, the pitiful way in which the mighty Judicator is attempting to nestle against the hard inanimate object in her arms and tries to make herself look smaller as if she is in mortal danger.

There are other things that the pale vampire notices after a bit. Curious things, important things. Little details like the scrunched up present that is lying under the garden bench and the _Happy Birthday Morgana_ song that's emanating from the distant lit windows of the buzzing mess hall building. Shauna bites her bottom lip as she once again examines the sleeping angel on the bench, the noble vampire's crimson gaze indecisively darting between the silent trees the brown foliages of which are rustling in the cool autumn breeze and the suddenly shivering form of the vulnerable Judicator that's resting on the cold garden bench.

…

 _Damn_

Vayne sighs and grumbles something nasty under her breath before the brooding huntress carefully lifts the sleeping beauty from the hard unforgiving surface of the garden bench, the unconscious angel's hands still tightly grasping the general mass of her imposing golden helmet against the poor aching muscle that fuels Kayle's pained heartbeat. With swift and silent footsteps the cursed vampire carries the drunken celestial warrior in her arms towards the angel's private chambers.

…

The journey to Kayle's room is thankfully enough a quick and uneventful one. Shauna briefly pauses in front of the door and borrows the keys from the still sleeping form of the unresponsive Judicator before she deftly unlocks Kayle's door with a low irritated sigh. The black-haired huntress then quietly carries the unconscious blonde swordswoman to the safety of the angel's bedroom and gently sets down the drunken woman over the linen white sheets and the bed's soft mattress.

Shauna pauses and grimaces once more as she lays eyes on the figure of the unconscious woman before her. Kayle is still wearing her armored golden attire, minus the helmet of course, the celestial swordswoman's magnificent ivory wings shifting uncomfortably as the poor inebriated female is subconsciously trying to curl up in a better sleeping position as to avoid having her armored weight accidentally crush her soft white plumage.

Shauna makes as if to leave, but the brooding huntress abruptly freezes in her tracks when the grumpy vampire grudgingly decides to take one last peek at the innocent defenseless form of the drunken sleeping blonde woman. _The Formerly sleeping blonde woman_ , Vayne notes at once with some degree of both horror and surprise… The infamous Night Hunter's piercing sanguine glare unexpectedly meeting two chips of wet sky blue eyes.

"V-Vayne?"

The upset Judicator examines the pale vampire that's standing in front of her with a pair of pained stormy eyes the color of recently unearthed blue topaz and Kayle's hold around the golden helmet in her chest tightens considerably when the loud cheers and the happy yelling that's coming out of the crowded mess hall abruptly rise in volume. Vayne simply nods her head in a sharp and courteous manner before the black-haired bloodsucking demon with the eyes made of liquid life and the visage made out of white chalk soundlessly turns around fully intent on just walking away from all of this mess and simply get out of the now apparently conscious righteous angel's bedroom.

A strong hand desperately wrapping around the solitary Night Hunter's black sleeve stops Shauna's swift departure, an unexpected croak almost makes her pale body jolt as a weak whisper abruptly kisses the late-night's tense air.

"Please stay."

The vampire turns around in order to face the obviously awake Judicator that's watching her through pained wet sky blue eyes. And such expressive azure gemstones that Kayle's eyes are at the moment. Those glistering aquamarine mirrors that are staring straight at Shauna are such pleading and sad orbs of pain. Those two shinning blue gems are frightened eyes, lonely eyes, eyes more suited to a scared toddler that's lost alone in the woods rather than a veteran warrior and not to mention an actual immortal.

Vayne is not particularly close to Kayle, heck she is not particularly close to anyone and yet that pleading gaze reminds Shauna of a pale young girl that's begging for the company of her glaring servants. It reminds her of a dark manor's empty hallways and a figure that's trying to muffle its low sobs every night while cowering inside her deceased papa's old ornate closet.

The lonely, sobbing child's eyes are red like freshly spilled blood, its tormented soul blackened by a sin that it never truly committed.

"…"

 _Fine…_

The female vampire slowly nods as the Demacian noblewoman quietly proceeds to carefully sit herself on the edge of Kayle's bed and Vayne after some pesky contemplation and inner turmoil even decides to help the drunken woman finally remove her golden armor and her boots and her surprisingly heavy exotic gauntlets now that the inebriated angel somehow happens to be conscious.

The Celestial's armored boots are soon placed on the floor near the blushing drunken warrior's bed, the golden breastplate is set down on a wooden nearby table.

Even then, Kayle doesn't dare to completely release her hold on the sleeve of the other much paler woman. Frantic and trembling fingers instantly wrapping around the dark fabric of Shauna's clothes once more the moment the majestic golden gauntlets are hurriedly removed from the inebriated Judicator's twitchy and numb appendages.

The cursed noblewoman pretends that she doesn't notice the celestial warrior's apparent desperation and the reclusive vampire barely resists her instinctive urge to violently jerk her hand away from the hold of the clearly upset blonde stranger. Kayle's weak and uncertain grip shyly glides up in order for the lightly sniffling angel to hesitantly grasp the vampire's pale fingers after a few tense and awkward minutes of silence and surprisingly enough Vayne doesn't actually leave or pushes Kayle away and allows it.

The irony of the moment isn't lost on either of them. Shauna is a creature of darkness and yet here she is awkwardly attempting to comfort the proud Judicator with her conflicted threatening presence and the feeling of her cursed flesh against Kayle's feverish skin. The proud Judicator's past zeal for the utter annihilation of everything dark and corrupted that didn't share Kayle's pious ideals had once led to her severing her bonds with her dear sister, Morgana along with the Fallen Angel's wings and any faint possibility of the two of them ever acting like actual siblings.

And yet now a creature as dreaded and impure as the pale, red-eyed woman that was currently sitting beside her on the bed. That often mocked and oh so despised and completely misunderstood taciturn stranger that was kind enough to stay by her side during this moment of weakness, was the only respite and company that Kayle could presently afford to have and rely upon now that the guilt of the Judicator's past actions had finally caught up with her and resurfaced to torment the righteous celestial tonight.

"P-please, don't abandon me too. Don't walk away and leave me a-alone right now. P-please, please I am begging you. Don't cast me away like the others."

The wretched lone vampire doesn't answer the crying woman's desperate pleas, crimson hellish orbs merely burning with powerful intensity in the relative darkness of the sobbing angel's bedroom as Morgana's birthday celebration comes to an end and the shouts coming from the crowded mess hall gradually start fading into the veil of night. Kayle falls asleep after about half an hour of painful heartache and a lot of shed bitter tears while the crying angel anxiously waits for Shauna to laugh in her face and then abandon her like so many others before her.

But curiously enough that never happens, and the poor sniffling Judicator soon falls asleep with Kayle either being too tired or too emotionally spent for the Celestial warrior to stay awake until she can welcome the light of the sun and see the next dawn.

Shauna doesn't make any attempt to make herself more comfortable or to lay down by the fragile sleeping angel's side during the night. She does keep holding the blonde woman's hand for hours upon hours however as if she has forgotten about it, and Vayne watches over the vulnerable form of the celestial being as the Judicator sleeps.

Shauna even reaches out to brush away some of Kayle's leftover tears once or twice now that nobody is present to witness this small act of kindness, until the first rays of the morning light start blistering the black-haired vampire's pale skin and the cursed noble has to retreat back to the gloomy safety of her own private chambers.

Vayne hesitantly pauses to spare a quick glance at the relaxed form of the sleeping angel that's lying on the bed before she departs. The fallen noblewoman then proceeds to remove Kayle's golden helmet from the slumbering angel's other hand and carefully places it on the unconscious warrior's bed stand. The fallen noble delays her departure just a bit more in order to tidy the blonde woman's bed sheets with clumsy and uncertain hands. The brooding huntress also covers Kayle's vulnerable and unresponsive body with a thick blanket that the red-eyed vampire finds in a closet in order to ward off the cold wind gusts of the season.

The Night Hunter then leaves the room while running a hurt, burned hand through her long midnight trenches. Shauna releases a tired sigh. An azure-colored orb stealthily opens to follow the clearly exhausted huntress as Vayne exits the room, a hint of rouge now sprinkled over the Judicator's peculiar sleepy visage.

* * *

0000

Shauna is either dead or she is dying. Probably the latter one since the injured dexterous huntress is _almost_ certain that surprisingly enough she is still somehow capable of breathing and coughing droplets of crimson liquid for the time being. But then again Vayne knows that won't last for long given her current terrible predicament.

The Night Hunter can't see a thing at the moment. Vayne's vision is too blurry for her to understand what's happening around her. She only knows that she is bleeding out. Her body broken and her heartbeat slowing down with each passing painful beat of the abused clenching muscle as the army of undead abominations around her leisurely begin surrounding her.

Shauna more feels than sees the dark creature's moving closer to her, fangs, bony skeletal fingers and sharp inhuman claws already tearing at her bleeding flesh with apparent joy and fervor. Vayne attempts to fight them off for a slim second and then pain flares across the entire bloodstained and mutilated mass that she once called her body and the huntress coughs out another mouthful of blood as Vayne resigns herself to her fate.

There is a sudden explosion of golden light and the undead monstrosities instantly scatter away with scared grunts and horrendous gargles of fear that the Night Hunter couldn't have even thought possible for the undead horrors to produce before that very moment.

Another series of fiery explosions makes her eardrums ring and Vayne coughs out what may as well be her last breath in this world as a radiant golden figure hurriedly lunges down from the burning sky and kneels beside the dying Night Hunter. Strong and yet delicate hands lift Vayne's unresponsive body from the dirty and cold bloodstained pavement, somebody brushes a lone black strand of sticky red hair away from her face and behind her pale ear as the hazy golden and white figure in front of her begins frantically calling her name in fright.

… _Who?_

There is even more blinding light now, the injured vampire tastes blood as her savior attempts feeding her some of the rejuvenating scarlet liquid, but Vayne has some trouble swallowing it at the moment and so the hunter ends up spilling most of the warm liquid with a pained croaked sob and an involuntary shudder.

Her desperate savior tries and fails yet again to feed her some of the blood and then something soft and wet is pressed against Vayne's bruised and torn lips, gentle hands shifting behind the vampire's hunched back as Shauna abruptly finds herself nestling against the body of a winged armored woman.

The fallen noble's eyesight plays some aggravating tricks on her, Vayne's blurry vision rapidly alternating between swimming, clearing and diming much like the pale woman's pulse while trembling celestial digits are tenderly stroking the injured female's shredded back and the clammy skin of her drained face.

It seems like hours for Kayle until Vayne finally manages to swallow some of the panicked angel's blood. The crimson sanguine fluid reluctantly sliding down the broken creature's throat until it gathers inside Vayne's stomach causing a familiar comforting warmth to gradually spread across the shredded being's frame. Shauna is feeling even sleepier now due to the sweet haze of warm fresh blood in her tongue and her body just uselessly droops against that of her extremely relieved angelic savior.

Something is lightly pressed against Shauna's temple and the caressing on her back keeps going at full force. The broken creature tries to blink away the black spots that are dancing in front of her face. She tries to clear the thick mist that's fogging her tired mind.

"It's ok. You are going to be alright now." A feminine voice informs the wounded huntress reassuringly and bleary unfocused red eyes attempt to discover the source of the sound even if Vayne's brain has already started shutting down from the pain and the exhaustion that's racking her body. Something big soft and white gently brushes against the remnants of Shauna's torn outfit and covers the exposed dirty skin of the vampire that is exposed to the world through the tears in her slashed black clothes.

Something fluffy and soft carefully wraps around the cursed noblewoman's pitiful broken form, the wet pressure against Vayne's temple momentary returning as her savior kisses her while whispering to her calming reassurances.

"Wh..?"

Vayne attempts to speak, she tries to croak something, maybe even to utter a word or ask a question. All that she accomplishes is to produce a whimpering sound that's too faded and jumbled to mean anything and causes a crimson trickle of blood to slide down her chin and land on her bruised collar bone.

"Shh.. I am right here now. It's ok, Shauna, you can rest." And it is at this specific point that the Night Hunter just gives up as her body betrays her. The injured vampire let's her chin slide down against the strong shoulder of her celestial savior as her whole body goes limp and then relaxes, Vayne's limbs now totally unresponsive. Shauna's eyelids slowly flutter and then close as her head somehow finds its way to the crook of the celestial woman's neck.

Kayle allows her lips to form a small bitter smile as the blonde angel tenderly holds the now unconscious Night Hunter in her strong armored arms, the Judicator's concerned sky blue eyes misty and wet and her pure ivory wings protectively wrapped around the body of the injured pale woman that she had almost just lost forever. The armor-clad angel leans down to gently press a kiss against the bloodied temple of the wounded huntress that's resting on her lap one last time as Kayle anxiously waits for the defenseless vampire's whizzed and ragged breathing to finally be restored and for Vayne's frighteningly slow heartbeat to hopefully return back to normal.

Kayle holds Shauna close as the unconscious vampire keeps breathing slowly, the Night Hunter's chest rising and falling with each painful breath that she inhales, small unintentional shudders occasionally running down the injured lithe female's weakened frame.

The rigid Judicator has to restrain herself from examining Shauna's exposed fair milky skin or stare at the cursed noblewoman's pale visage from so close as Kayle gently lifts Vayne from the dirty floor. The angel then finds a wall to settles down against and sets Vayne on her lap as tenderly as she can manage, the vampire's head resting against the blonde female's shoulder like the sleeping princess of an old forgotten fairytale. The angel catches a peek of Shauna's relaxed expression and briefly glances at the other woman's closed eyelids for a moment before she hesitantly leans down and kisses her.

The sleeping princess doesn't magically wake up from her dreamless slumber due to the angel's chaste kiss like in the stories, but that's perfectly fine with Kayle, especially if that means that the celestial warrior can keep holding the beautiful female vampire in her arms for just a few moments longer.

The End

* * *

 **Writer's notes: And I am like, you know what would be cute? A KaylexVampireVayne story. Light and darkness. It doesn't have to be anything flashy or long, let's just write a few sentences down to get the ship out of our system. 1.2K words, Err it's longer than I had expected, but that's fine I guess. You know what would be cool? A short extra hurt/comfort scene where Kayle's debt is repaid and we can have some nice warm interactions for contrast to the first part. You know the drill, loose descriptions, blurry visuals, just have some fun and keep it short. 1.8 K words…**

 **B-but the story might feel incomplete, if we just end it here, we need a little more text to smoothen the ending and set the pace correctly. 2.3K words. That's ok I guess, now let's edit the story. A million shed tears later and the editing is done the story has somewhere around 2.7K plus words…**

 **And that's how drawing disaster ended up writing a whole story instead of a damn drabble as they had first intended. Teemo, oh great deity of wisdom, writing, death and fanfiction why do you torment me so much? Is it because I haven't included you in a story for a while? Is that why you are testing me my Furry Sun? Fine then! Have it your way!**

* * *

Teemo was casually chilling, lying on his bed, gold and vast reaches could be seen all around the short yordle while young beautiful maidens dressed in revealing clothing were massaging his back and stroking his chin playfully while feeding him grapes.

"Would your Fuzziness like some more red wine?" Asks one of the gorgeous fair maidens and Teemo smiles exposing his pearly white teeth as the handsome yordle turns to address Janna.

"Only if it is as sweet as your lips, my lovely" Smoothly replies Teemo as he playfully slaps Ahri's behind and both girls blush madly and start giggling shyly upon laying eyes on the chiseled face of the handsome furry man, their entire bodies shivering in glee and secret anticipation after receiving such high praise from their wise miniature deity.

The doors of the throne room are suddenly swung open as a new feminine figure with flowing black hair and a golden jeweled headdress abruptly enters the luxurious chamber and addresses Teemo with unwavering conviction coloring her voice.

"My name's Sivir, Furry God, and my father the mighty Emperor Azir has ordered me to come here and marry the wise handsome yordle the brilliance of which can only be matched by the radiance of the morning sun!" The young woman declares with a determined voice, but Teemo just shrugs and gets back to molesting Ahri and playing with Janna. He also makes sure to teasingly lick Lux's fingers while the blonde woman is feeding him some grapes and the young maiden yelps in surprise before she instantly blushes in embarrassment.

"Get in line kid, you are the twelfth princess of whatev's that suddenly marches in here and demands to marry me or asks to touch my godly rod of infinite miracles and wisdom just this week alone! I am sorry, but the spots in my harem are kind of filled right now so go back to your emperor dad and maybe come back later."

 _That just won't do._

Sivir approaches the handsome yordle's much smaller form and softly places one delicate hand against Teemo's toned manly chest. The Shuriman princess' eyes find that of the furry god as Sivir stares at the powerful deity before her seductively. "And what if I can convince you of my worth?" The black-haired princess questions and then Sivir closes her eyes and leans down to kiss Teemo.

…

…

…

 **3.6k words, this is obviously not working…**


	44. The lament of the duelist

**Tags: Vayne, Fiora, Drama.**

* * *

Two young children are playing in a vast Demacian garden. There are flowers and marble sculptures littering the trimmed green grass, rose bushes shaped like castles and forming beautiful arcs, fountains glittering with clear cold water and trees sheared in the likeness of mythical beings and small woodland animals. The sight is breathtaking, the atmosphere is joyful and serene. Little Shauna smiles as she places a circlet made of woven flowers onto the dichromatic head of her playmate. The older girl smiles and giggles and Shauna Vayne averts her gaze intending to hide her faint blush from the other young noble child when Fiora suddenly hugs her tightly.

The scene is so bright and magnificent as if it's made out of pure white light and little Fiora doesn't accord with parting with the fragile woven circlet that Shauna has made for her until one of her family's servants finally puts the child to sleep that night. Even then Shauna's gift is carefully placed next to the noble girl's bedstead so Fiora can observe it under the pale moonlight that's entering from the open window until sleep finally claims her.

* * *

0000

Little Fiora doesn't understand why she isn't allowed to play with Shauna from now on. The adults are yelling and fighting, they are talking about some great disaster that has striken the House of Vayne and they keep peeking at her with anxious glares and tense faces carved from frigid stone. Fiora doesn't care about what the adults think! She grabs her precious circlet and dashes towards the front door. She wants to see Shauna! She needs to know that her friend is safe and that everything is alright!

One of the adults yells in alarm and someone grips her wrist and forcefully drags her towards her chambers. A particularly violent tug from the solemn servant and the precious fragile circlet slips from her small childish hands only to be instantly crushed under the heel of another approaching maid. Fiora sniffles in anguish as the first servant keeps pulling her away from the precious fallen gift of her playmate and its crushed and scattered petals.

The young girl's wet blue eyes never quite leave her abandoned woven treasure even when one of the saddened maids proceeds to sweep the circlet with a broom and then throw it away in the rubbish.

* * *

0000

It is almost a public secret that a lot of the noble Demacian Houses aren't too fond of each other. House Lawrence for example likes to compete with the members of House Crownguard and trade political blows with them for the most unnecessary and meaningless of reasons. Wherever that included trying to win the favor of the current sovereign, attempting to widen their scope of influence by attending important meetings and war councils or just making sure to appear wearing the most lavishing and expensive of clothing and accessories in public. That last one was part of an egotistical effort for the rich members of the Lawrence House to make the members of the other noble Clans look like mere beggars in comparison to the riches and wealth that the pompous duelists were so proudly exhibiting.

And yet for all of their numerous differences and their arrogance the noble Houses of Demacia needed to appear united and collected like the clenched fingers of an unwavering fist, and so all of their members are forced to attend social gatherings like celebrations, important ceremonies… and dreaded funerals.

Fiora wasn't certain why her parents had suddenly dragged her and her siblings all the way to this depressing meeting placed among ancient pillars of grey stone, or why everyone around her was so eerily silent and serious. An elderly man dressed in white robes was talking in a calm authoritative tone and a few of the adults that were attending the ceremony were looking at their boots, gripping their walking canes in their hands and some of them were even crying!

The spectacle was weird and bizarre to say the least, and the young toddler's confusion would soon take a turn for the worse with the appearance of the short cloaked figure with the hidden face and the emblem of the House of Vayne embedded on its small stiff back.

The white-robed elderly man pauses as soon as he spots the short quiet figure. The priest's harsh bushy eyebrows furrowing in thought and the ivory-clad man makes as if to opens his mouth to say something scathing before the stern clergyman seemingly changes his mind and tiredly shakes his head before continuing with his loud sermons. And maybe it is just Fiora's eyes that are playing tricks on her, but the yelling man's wrinkled visage is now undoubtedly fiercer and sprinkled with red hues as if something has insulted or angered him greatly.

"Aaand so the Founder held his golden sword and the people of Demacia gathered around _him_ like a crown so _he_ would spread the light of _his radiance_ to the farthest-"

The old man keeps humming and murmuring complicated words, a few nobles perform some kind of weird hand gesture. Fiora is too focused on the unnerving lone figure of the cloaked intruder to pay any attention to any of this and the young noble child abruptly finds itself stepping towards the mysterious stranger. Fiora's parents and siblings presently proving far too lost in their own thoughts and the acts of the ongoing ceremony to register the curious girl's disappearance and attempt to stop her from approaching the unwelcome stranger.

The curious toddler stealthily moves towards the dark hooded figure with the hunched shoulders with swift steps and a desperation born from all the time that Fiora has spent away from her childhood friend. The stranger bears the symbol of Shauna's House on their back after all and so they _must_ be able to help Fiora meet her dear playmate!

"And _He_ wrote _His_ name, and _He_ swung His sword so the pious and the just-"

The hooded intruder abruptly notices Fiora approaching and attempts to take a step back. The noble child's eyes widen before narrowing in response, small hands darting for the black fabric of the fleeing stranger's cloak. This is Fiora's only chance to reunite with her dear friend after all and the young noblewoman refuses to just let the stranger escape before she gets some answers out of them. The hooded figure attempts to take another quick step back before little stubby fingers suddenly get a hold of the dark fabric of the mysterious person's clothes causing the black hood concealing the stalker's identity to abruptly fall, only for the dark soft fabric of the cloak to uselessly gather around the young person's trembling shoulders.

Fiora has mere seconds to realize that the stranger is actually Shauna before the other child suddenly lunges for the shadow of a nearby gravestone with flames licking its pale face and a pained screams escaping from its open lips.

The crowd around the two children instantly comes alive. The gathered nobles start murmuring and pointing their fingers at the burning child or exclaiming in shock as the sole survivor of the House of Vayne covers her burning visage with little shaky palms and tries to hide behind the old dusty gravestone.

Fiora is frozen, wide sky blue eyes staring fixedly at the screaming toddler that had once used to be her childhood friend. The young Lawrence's small arm frozen, still outstretched as if the shocked child is trying to reach out and grab the sniffling shade of her friend that's currently sobbing behind the old dirty gravestone. One question keeps reverberating inside the startled mind of the shocked noble girl even as the adults around Fiora start settling down and the white-clad clergyman begins repeating his fanatical sermons with suddenly newfound joy and seemingly renewed vigor. The elderly priest completely ignoring the heart-wrenching screams of the pale toddler that's yelling in pain behind the ancient grave of a long deceased Demacian soldier.

Meanwhile little Fiora has yet to find the answer to the sole dreaded question that's ailing her young mind.

Just why were Shauna's once kind brown eyes now a terrifying dark crimson?


	45. Little Blue Riding Hood

**Tags: Attempts at comedy, Ashe, Avarossa, Lissandra, Warwick, Fairytales, Sleep deprivation.  
**

* * *

"There you go" The kind white-haired woman says as she places the last few remaining items inside her daughter's small woven basket. "Now go out and deliver granny Lissandra's breakfast along with those True Ice crystals that grandma would never use for nefarious purposes, such as world domination for example." Mama Avarossa helpfully continues before she places another wrapped package inside her teenage daughter's simple woven basket and then leans down to kiss Ashe's forehead.

"Right." Ashe dryly answers her mother with a deadpan expression plastered on her pale face. The young Frost Archer being eager to just get outside, away from mamma Avarossa's attentive and prying eyes and finally smoke her cigarettes in peace, hidden away from the protective clutches of her dear sweet mother. The silver-haired woman clasps her azure-colored cloak around her body and then puts on her hood.

Mama Avarossa merely rolls her eyes at that since it is currently summer and she knows that her brooding daughter _will_ most definitely suffocate inside that stuffy blue thing, but Ashe doesn't really care about her mother's opinion since hoods and cloaks are edgy and in fashion and so she has to wear them even in summer!

Mama Avarossa hopes that this is just a phase for her silver-haired daughter.

"And please be careful, Ashe. There are rumors of a scary wolf that's taken residence in the forest, so be sure to avoid straying from the path and pay extra attenti-"

But the young Frost Archer is already gone and the door of the wooden hut slams shut behind the pale teenager's back as the blue-eyed girl starts fishing inside the pockets of her skinny jeans for her lighter and smokes. Finding the items would have certainly been a lot easier if only the fair-skinned girl would just unfasten her damn cloak first, but Ashe just loves that damn thing and the idea that her face is partially concealed much like the visage of a deadly assassin. The loudly swearing figure of the Little Blue Riding Hood disappears into the sea of trees and warm foliages as Ashe finally manages to find her smokes and light a cigarette while walking forward.

* * *

0000

 _Yeeeeeeah, that's the stuuuuuff._ A really sweaty Ashe smiles happily as the hooded teenager releases a few puffs of foul white smoke, the Frost Archer's long silver trenches sticking to her clammy forehead due to the immense heat as the rebellious cloaked archer tiredly follows the hidden trail that's leading to granny Lissandra's secret lair. And Yep, that place was an actual lair all right! A lair of a batshit insane hermit! What's with granny Liss and her grandmother's ever-growing army of cats that were keeping the elderly woman company Ashe would probably never know.

It was ok when Granny Liss had found Rengar. Awesome when she had adopted Nidalee, Katarina was a tabby one-eyed monstrosity that had always tried to scratch her face whenever Ashe visited them, and whatever lies her mad grandmother claimed the pale archer was pretty sure that Renekton was actually a fucking alligator instead of a rare Bilgewater scaled feline as the elderly insane Ice Witch so stubbornly insisted. But what Ashe despised even more than the four strangely cunning pets that her Granny was housing was her actual blood-relative, poor grandma Lissy herself and her antics.

Her mother's mamma was like reaaally creepy. She would keep mumbling something about ice and frost, offer her ice-creams during the winter and had even started a weird cult of some sorts called 'The Frozen Watchers'. And while, yeah, Ashe had also liked the cartoon movie and she occasionally enjoyed rewatching it the silver-haired teenager couldn't for the life of her understand why anybody would start a cult or a club named after the famous Dasney movie.

Every. Single. Birthday present that Ashe had ever received from her whacky grandmother had been either an ice-cube tray or a freaking snow globe…

The Frost Archer had really started contemplating _accidentally_ dropping a few shards of True Ice in Granny Lissy's bathtub after her sixteenth birthday when Lissandra had gifted the young girl a Shuriman snow globe of all things that depicted the ancient Golden City buried in thick layers upon layers of snow and ice. But if grandma Lissandra wasn't there any more then who was Ashe supposed to deliver useless stuff to in order to escape her mother's strict supervision and smoke in secret?

That was of course a truly difficult dilemma and the young archer had to consider her options very carefully before doing anything hasty that could potentially lead to unsavory results and the loss of something really precious to her that the archer wouldn't ever hope to reclaim in this lifetime. Ashe would protect her right to harm her body through smoking to her last puff of burnable poison if that was necessary!

A rustle in a nearby bush suddenly draws the silver-haired woman out of her thoughts and Ashe's sky blue eyes narrow as the teen stares at the ominously moving foliages. The young girl takes a single step back, one hand clenching the handle of her woven basket in a white-knuckled death grip the other one tweeting _#Danger_ , #Spooky and _#Wandering alone in the woods like a boss, dot, smiley face_ , on her new Valor-eter account.

The sound of the shifting foliages becomes even louder as a filthy mangy beast suddenly emerges from behind the green bushes, the giant wolf's hulking silhouette casting a large shadow over the presently stunned silver-haired woman.

#Shit! #Help! #like this comment, I am dying! #Unfriending Sejuani if I survive, Yolo!

Warwick's powerful jaws open exposing razor-sharp teeth, the beast's soulless red eyes staring at Ashe with a hint of raw and twisted desire. A huge clawed hand then slowly rises and moves towards the seemingly paralyzed girl's face. A sharp pointer finger aiming an even sharper and cruel wicked claw over the chin of the presently speechless Frost Archer!

"Excuse me Miss, but could I perhaps borrow a cigarette?" Warwick finally asks as the giant werewolf casually points at the small burning white cylinder that's perched between Ashe's trembling lips, and the fair-skinned teenager just pauses and shrugs before Ashe silently reaches inside her pocket to find a fag for the friendly Zaunite werewolf.

The End

* * *

 **End credits (scroll down slowly)**

* * *

Avarossa is still alive, she married Warwick's half-brother, Nasus and the two of them are happy together.

Ashe got into a relationship with Warwick, but the Frost Archer then decided that the kindhearted werewolf wasn't emo enough for her tastes and so she dumped him and started dating Talon. They both wear their hoods and cloaks even during the summer.

Granny Lissandra is still trying to conquer the world. She also adopted an enormous Nine-tailed kitten that her granddaughter is claiming that is actually a fox Vastayan. Silly child, Ahri doesn't even speak with an Ionian accent.

Warwick was devastated when Ashe left him, luckily enough for him the heartbroken werewolf decided to use his pain as motivation and leave his old life behind. Warwick became a successful horror movie actor and married his co-star Sivir when the two of them met while filming _Mummy wolf 4. The cursed jaws of Shurima_. The couple has two beautiful daughters that aspire to be movie stars like their parents.

Drawingdisaster realized that it was time to crawl under the bed sheets and die (meaning to sleep, don't worry) after writing the chapter, but their insomnia kept them awake and so the writer wrote a lot of silly League plots and lame jokes that they then put in the author's notes.

Nobody ever realized that Maokai was also included in the story as a tree in the forest. The green titan effortlessly melted into the background, obscured by the barks of other smaller non-sentient trees, until Ashe accidentally started a forest fire with one of her cigarettes and Maokai had to appear to put out the flames. Ashe framed him for the fire in order to hide that she was smoking from her mother. Mao went to jail for arson, he came out years later with native tattoos that made him look like a totem. He hasn't been the same tree ever since, but he found a job as a goalkeeper. Maokai still hates smokers.

* * *

 **A LOT of plot ideas and a shout-out: What do you do when you are so sleepy that you can't even type? I write fanfictions! Some of you might have noticed, but I draw (heh heh) a great amount of inspiration from classic fairytales and I wonder why I don't see many stories using their settings. Examples below.  
**

 **Ashe and the seven yordles: A story where snow-Ashe runs away from her evil stepmother Lissandra and gets lost in a forest where seven yordles find her and adopt her. We even have Kled to star as the Grumpy.**

 **Little Cait riding in da Hood: Caitlyn is tasked by her mother to deliver some hex-tech crystals to her uncle Jayce near Zaun. She gladly accepts, but she soon strays from the path while browsing rifle modifications in shop displays. A thieving pinkette wolf Vastayan tries to take advantage of that and steal both Cait's heart and the valuable crystals.**

 **Or**

 **The beast that roams the woods: Life has its ups and downs and the wolf Vastayan Caitlyn is definitely experiencing the latter right now. Orphaned at a young age, pressed for money and out of options the wolf Vastayan decides to trick and rob the next person that wanders into her forest. But unfortunately for Cait, that pink-haired traveler is both flirty, dense and inappropriate and Cait becomes the victim of the story as the wolf tries to contain her annoyance long enough to steal the cargo of the obnoxious human female.**

 **There are so many variations that could be written for this one.**

 **Pick your poison: "Hey Miss Riven, did you drop this silver-haired Lunari in the well or was it that brunette Sun Avatar?" "Neither of them. I dropped my fking axe, I'm a woodcutter you see." "Damn, well I admire your honesty so you can keep both of them!" "But I don't want them! Hey wait! I said wait, please come back! You can't just drop them and disappear on me like that!"**

 **The magical etwahl: Do you know why there are no yordles in Noxus? Because of a certain mute. Sona is a despicable assassin that is tasked from Noxus to deal with their little sentient mice problem. Sona always finishes the job… A dark gritty tale about how the Maven uses her music to make unsuspecting yordles follow her out of Noxus until they drop into a well and drown. Noxus then refuses to pay her for her services and so Sona in an act of rage and revenge steals Swain's raven! But what the mute assassin doesn't initially realize is that the raven is actually a transformed LeBlanc that is really into BDSM play and so LB occasionally transforms into a raven and lets Swain lock her in a bird cage to get her kicks out of it…** **Damn I am already turning the stories into smut, maybe I should just lay down.**

…

 **But what if Sona is actually the Little Mermaid that fell in love with someone in Bilgewater or a Demacian noblewoman and so she made a deal that trade her tail for a pair of feet so Sona could chase after her love in the dry land? That's why she is mute and now the poor mermaid will have to navigate the dangerous slums of Bilgewater confused, naïve and alone. But Maybe Sarah Fortune is in town, maybe she is going to protect the young mermaid?**

 **-Stop it drawing! You are out of your goddamn mind!**

 **-Neva! Orianna is a spoiled Piltovian princess that plays in the garden with her silver ball until it falls in a pond. Viktor, a gruff wandering cyborg comes to her rescue, but Viktor will only accept using his extra hand to acquire the short-circuited device after some robot-kissing so that Vik can test and adjust his new lip synchronizer module.**

 **-Drawing I am warning you! One more whacky story and I'm-**

 **-Teemo always knew that he was destined for greatness! But when the young yordle learns about the magical sword that's stuck in Malphite's rear which whoever pulls out is going to be crowned as the next King of Cumalot-**

 ***The second personality pulls out the plug.**

 **Ahem.**

 **Shout-out: I forgot to mention that I recently collaborated with the author **_**thestripybag**_ **for a story. Stripy has a lot of nice story ideas and some surprisingly unique concepts, so if you like fantasy stories, refreshing new worlds and action-packed adventures I would recommend you to check out their stories.**


	46. Jealousy

**Tags: Leona, Diana, Some smut, Yuri, Comedy or Tragedy?**

* * *

Leona smiles charmingly at her dining partner while tactfully wiping her mouth with a small paper towel. Everything had gone magnificently that evening, from Pantheon's polite invitation, to the wine and the food the two of them had been served, and the pleasant idle talk that had been practically flowing through their lips as if both of them completely understood each other.

Pantheon returns her smile with one of his own even if most of his face is still hidden behind the shadows casted by his inseparable helmet. The obviously equally inebriated Artisan of War then smoothly gestures at Teemo, their waiter for the night to bring them the check so the two of them can leave Tahm's luxurious restaurant. The black suited yordle takes a short moment to straighten its tiny black bowtie before the waiter nods his head at the Artisan of War and Teemo disappears into the kitchens.

Pantheon then focuses his attention back on his lovely date and beautiful companion, the Artisan's gleaming red eyes overflowing with love as the huge Targonian man shyly leans in order to kiss Leona.

"Wait!" Screams an apparently drunk Diana as she suddenly barges into the room, the female Lunari's silver armor shining brightly under the sparse lighting that gives the luxurious restaurant a subtle romantic air.

"You can't have him! Pantheon is too good for you! You won't even know how to please him!" Yells the drunken Diana as she stomp her way to the happy couple and grasps Pantheon's hand with a softer expression and despair evident in her beautiful striking grey eyes.

"Pick me, Pan! I will be a much better lover than this stupid Sun-kisser zealot. I know a lot of positions and tricks, I'm confident!"

Leona's nostrils flare in anger after the Radiant Dawn hears those offensive words. The Solari instantly grabs the mighty Artisan's other hand as Leona uses her warm brown eyes to glare daggers at the rude Diana.

"Don't listen to this heretic, Pantheon! Diana likes spreading her lies like a disease, but I am quite certain that the Moon's chosen one doesn't know of any tricks, and that _she_ is in fact a bad kisser!"

"You bitch!" Abruptly screeches Diana like a mad enraged banshee. "You wanna see a kiss?! I will show you a kiss!" And so Diana deftly grabs the back of Leona's head and crashes her lips against those of the brunette Solari's.

Everything is quiet for the next minute or two as the Scorn of the Moon frantically keeps thrusting her tongue inside Leona's mouth, the tastes of expensive wine, strong alcohol and fragrant soup mixing in inside the two women's mouths. Diana's iron grip on the back of the Solari's head effectively stopping the Radian Dawn from pushing the smaller, pale female away. A fork clatters on a plate as Pantheon tries to stem the rivers of blood that are flooding from his nose after the stunned man witnesses the admittedly arousing sight before him.

It is almost three minutes of intense oral battle later when the two flustered female Targonian warriors finally part, a thin string of saliva connecting their mouth as a panting Diana smiles victoriously at the visibly blushing brunette Solari.

"There see? I (pant).. I (pant).. I am a great kisser."

But the Scorn's beautiful grey orbs are only met with Leona's infuriated brown ones as a strong tanned hand suddenly grabs the pale Lunari by the hair and swiftly pulls the moon knight forward and towards the clearly enraged Solari.

"Y-you call that a kiss!" growls Leona as the blushing Solari forcibly plants her ruby lips against those of her mortal enemy. Diana's grey eyes widen in surprise when it is Leona that's assaulting her oral cavity this time, and the silver themed warrior's knees grow weak as the gorgeous brunette locks eyes with her while seemingly attempting to shove her tongue down the currently squirming poor Moon knight's throat.

Meanwhile Pantheon has passed out due to the blood loss.

Diana's legs soon turn into jelly and her grey eyes mist with tears as the poor cultist bravely endures Leona's experienced attacks. The Scorn of the Moon needs air, but the damn Sun-kisser that's currently assaulting her doesn't allow her to even get a taste of the sweet, sweet oxygen that Diana's aching lungs are so desperately craving. The silver-haired woman's legs soon grow even weaker and the panting Lunari would have certainly collapsed on the restaurant's floor if it wasn't for the Radiant Dawn's strong tanned arm around her waist supporting her nemesis' weight.

The feisty brunette finally removes her smirking lips from Diana's seconds before her teary-eyed rival actually faints from oxygen deprivation. The Radiant Dawn makes a show of teasingly nipping the panting woman's abused lips as she continues holding the dazed Lunari close. Leona's brilliant smirk widens at Diana's utterly lost and extremely red-faced expression, which along with the Scorn's quivering form, actually convinces Leona that her archenemy has just creamed her panties.

"Just go home, foul heretic bitch. Your pitiful performance and your stubbornness is frankly becoming quite unsightly."

Not exactly the truth since most of the restaurant's clients were currently watching the _heated_ exchange with bated breaths and a firm _protective_ hold over their genitals, but Diana _was_ interrupting her romantic date with Pantheon and the Chosen of the Moon should really take the hint at some point.

"N-never! (pant) (pant) T-that k-kiss didn't prove anything at all! I am a much better l-lover than you, Leona. I'm the one that's more suited for Pantheon, you hear me?!"

Brown narrowed orbs silently observe Diana's cute flustered face and Leona can almost feel something inside her breaking as the sadist inside her slowly awakens. The kind Solari isn't usually one for bullying the weak, but the prominent blush that's occupying her nemesis's pale visage and the misty and defiant grey eyes that are presently glaring at her are making Leona reconsider her stances concerning this particular fair-skinned woman.

"Are you sure that you haven't been defeated yet, oh pitiful and sad Scorn? It is completely fine with me if you want to return back home and lick your wounds like the dog that you are. You can try facing me again at some other time. If you _aren't_ afraid to face me again that is.."

Leona gives the silver-haired female a last chance to run away intact, but lays a little trap with the same words and the Radiant Dawn can already see that the prideful Lunari has already fallen for it before the angry growl even leaves the doomed moon knight's throat.

"I haven't been defeated yet, Sun-bitch! There is n-no way that I am backing down from this! Pantheon _will_ be mine!"

Leona smirks like a rabid wolf as she eyes her blushing nemesis with apparent mirth, the sadist inside her almost salivating at a chance at breaking the arrogant moon knight. The poor Lunari doesn't understand the predicament that she is in until the brunette's arms suddenly wrap around her armored form, coiling around the fair-skinned female's body like tanned hungry snakes.

"Well then, we shall continue."

Pantheon can wait for a night. It isn't often that the Radiant Dawn can both humiliate the last Lunari in Valoran and have some fun with such a misguided adorable toy after all. But the Radian Dawn would need a man to showcase her skills and prove her superiority over the shy Lunari, and her date was currently out of commission for the time being unfortunately. So where could Leona find a male to share with Diana?

"Excuse me" Teemo voices meekly as the short waiter bows politely and then hands Leona the check. "Are you perhaps ready to pay now?"

The Sun Avatar pauses as the brunette Solari merely blinks before she lowers her gaze to investigate the source of the squeaky voice she suddenly hears. Leona spots the nervous fuzzy man and then glances at the still panting Lunari next to her and the corner's of the Sun avatar's ruby lips abruptly tug into a cruel and sinister smile.

 _Bingo!_

The End

* * *

 **Notes: That feeling when the author doesn't even bother writing a plot to justify the attraction between two characters. Not even something whacky and supernatural like usual, like: Leona is Diana's guardian angel that falls in love with the pale Sun acolyte after witnessing Diana getting mistreated by her Solari peers, and so Leona descends from the heavens in order to cherish and protect the abused girl for example. Also I am pretty sure that I just gave people even more reasons to hate Teemo, but that's ok my friends since there is a very thin line between love and hate and soon you too will be able to see the light of his Fuzziness. Just. Like. Lee. Sin. (Evil face)  
**

 ***Sudden ambient sound**

* * *

0000 Extra.

Pantheon yawns as the Artisan of War blindly reaches for the small hex-tech device that's buzzing on his bed stand. The huge Targonian warrior grunts in pain, his helmeted head pulsing and throbbing as the sleepy warrior somehow manages to find his Hex-phone and hold the device before his bleary eyes. There is a new message from Leona! Pantheon smiles as his scarred thumb quickly descends and presses a sensitive button.

It takes some time for the sleepy Artisan of War to finally decipher the image that was sent to him from Leona's hex-phone. His Sun goddess is sleeping, half-naked beneath the covers of some cramped cheap motel room with the equally nude form of her archenemy Diana nestling peacefully by her side. And right between the two avatars, practically smothered between the soft heavenly bodies of the two nude female warriors is a small furry being with an evil smug smile. Teemo is staring at Pantheon from inside the impossibly bright screen, one of the yordle's furry hands groping Diana's shapely hips, the other one holding the hex-phone. The Swift Scout seems to be winking at the camera lens as Teemo happily kisses a still unconscious Leona.


	47. The blessed and the scorned

**There is something wrong with the site again, I couldn't upload a new story file and I had to overwrite the contents of an existing one in order to overcome that problem. I have copy-pasted the text so inform me if you think that there are any format problems.**

 **Tags: Quinn, Sejuani, Yuri, Drama**

* * *

Once every year a white-haired girl would wake up with a sharp pain in her chest and blurry images racing behind her sky blue eyes. The pain soon fades, but the sense of deep longing remains. Loneliness and despair festers inside the young child's heart and frost threatens to engulf her pure soul much like the cruel barbaric lands that she so happens to inhabit.

…

Once every year fighters and hunters would tread out of the village and roam the icy tundras until the next dawn. Most of them return, some of them alone and others in pairs of two, but the young blue-eyed girl? That pathetic, scorned child always returns by itself with pale clenched fists and a downcast expression marring its small and round tearstained face.

…

Once every year the Freljordian folk are assaulted by fleeting visions of their bonded soulmates. Foggy dreams and even hazier landscapes, quick snippets of faces in the white canvases of ice, frost and the brittle snow. Those dreamers then abandon the safety of their ragtag and rickety settlements. The Fate Seekers brave the snowstorm in search of their chosen partners.

But the cursed pale child regrettably doesn't dream of endless arctic white lands, but vast green ones instead. Soft grass and blooming plains, rustling foliages and the smudges of a pencil against the pages of a weathered leather-bound journal. The little barbarian girl hears the feminine laughter of a faceless person around her age without the haunting telltale howls of an approaching snowstorm or the ever-present crunching of fresh snow underneath wet boots.

There is no such thing as snow in the birthplace of her precious soulmate it seems. Not even a hint of frost or a sole lonely snowflake, nothing familiar at all to connect the existence of the two bonded children. The barbarian child starts sobbing when it finally realizes that joining the other Fate Seekers in the raging storms is just a waste of resources and time.

The little pale girl's poor heart is from then on encased in a thick layer of ice.

…

Once every year Sejuani would scream and stomp on the snow, and she would curse the whole world with the vast tundras stretching all around her and tears threatening to spill from her cold pained azure-colored eyes.

…

The lonely white-haired child had slowly turned into a woman at some point. The Winter's Wrath curses her soulmate and swears vengeance upon the wretched being that was born so far away from her, so far out of the Sejuani's reach just to torture her with those hopeless and bittersweet visions of ephemeral joy. The present chieftain of the Winter's Claw vows that she will make her Bonded One pay for tormenting her for so long if she ever manages to find them.

…

Sejuani resigns herself to a life without love, with visions of ghostly light pestering her dreamscape, reminding her of her failures for years to come until either she or her soulmate unexpectedly meets their impending ending.

…

Once every year the Freljordian child-turned-woman would dream of dancing green glass blades, bright blue skies and warm suns. But this time the nightmares are different. Sejuani sees chunks of ice instead of dry earth, snow instead of fertile brown soil and crimson droplets spilled in the snow instead of the usual green plains full of fragile vibrant flowers. There is also a loud sound that's accompanying this dream, a howl more haunting than the paeans of bloodshed and war. It is the sound of an oncoming blizzard, the roars of the violent winds mixing in with the breathless pants of a ragged figure as more and more snowflakes are marred with a warm scarlet liquid. The spilled lifeblood of her dying soulmate.

The white-haired warrior wakes up with a bitter taste in her mouth and terror flooding her very being. Sejuani quickly glances at the storm clouds and the spinning snow outside of her little window that's made of clean flat ice. The hardened female barbarian then darts out of her melancholic hunting shack with a pained scream building up inside her sore throat and hot desperate tears streaming out of her wide panicked eyes.

 _No, no, no, not like this!_ Some long winter's nights ago the mighty Freljordian woman might have wished in her rage and heartache for the death of her damned fated one, but now the thought of never peeking into those fragile and hated dreamlands utterly terrified the scorned warlord.

"W-wait! Please, wait! Wait for me my Bonded One! I am right here!" Screams the now sobbing Winter's Claw chieftain as Sejuani runs in the frozen plains with the blizzard raging all around her and the cold wind feeling like daggers in her face and throat. The pale warrior being so scared, so utterly terrified out of her mind that Sejuani doesn't even consider fetching her dear boar companion, Bristle before the shaken Winter's Claw warlord starts yelling and sobbing, blindly searching in the white frigid dirt and digging in the snow of the frozen arctic wastes for the body of her dying soulmate.

"I-I am sorry! I'm so sorry for wishing for you death! Please don't leave me now!"

A few long heart-wrenching minutes later and the chieftain of the Winter's Claw finally gives up and kneels on the brittle white snow. The harsh winds still whipping her short pale hair as Sejuani lets her cold scarred fingers sink into the ivory white blanket of the frigid Freljordian earth. The young chieftain's armored body being racked by sobs of pain and despair as new bitter tears abruptly start spilling from the scorned warrior's defeated eyes.

"I-I'm sorry.. I.. I am so sorry m-my love. I searched for you I swear, but I just couldn't f-find you. I-I should have come out sooner, searched for you this year alongside the other Fate See-kers! P-please d-don't disappear on me. I will love you! I will cherish you! I-I.. I will do anything for you! So long as, so long.. as you.."

Sejuani's face and eyelids are now covered with glistering snowflakes, the armored warrior's solemn knelt form is gradually getting buried in the merciless shroud of ice and snow. Much like the pale female's lost lover, much like cursed chieftain's dying soulmate that's currently freezing to death blizzard-knows-where. Perhaps Sejuani should let the plains take her too, maybe the unfortunate warlord should just let the harsh elements that are raging all around her claim her life much like the body of her precious Fated One.

"A-as long as you are alive and well that will be enough for me. So, please.. _please,_ don't die on me, my love. I am begging you. Let me lay eyes on you for a single moment to know that you have really existed in this world and then I promise to let you go…"

The echoing laughter of the heartless blizzard is the only reply that Sejuani receives as the heavyhearted Freljordian warrior merely closes her eyes in resignation and lets the storm swallow her body whole.

And then abruptly, a few paces away from the warlord as if to answer the broken woman's frantic prayers a cloaked figure suddenly collapses face down on the snow and a large azure-colored bird of some sort starts cawing in both alarm and surprisingly enough immense fear.

Sejuani slowly opens her eyes to hesitantly glance at the body of the unmoving fallen stranger and then the loud bird that's cawing around the cold still figure.

The sight of the giant blue bird fills the pale warrior with a great amount of relief for some inexplicable reason, the Demacian eagle's ruffled azure plumage almost reminding Sejuani of something out of an old memory or a forgotten distant dream that the currently crying warrior had once simply disregarded a long, long time ago.

With her rapid heartbeat echoing in her eardrums the Winter's Wrath swiftly approaches the silent body of the unconscious Demacian scout and effortlessly uses her trembling hands to lift the tanned woman's freezing frame from the suffocating blanket of the soft snow. The hardened barbarian warrior tightly embracing her freezing Bonded One for the first and probably the last time in her life.

"Please, be alright" Sejuani lightly prays in a broken and shaky tone "Please be alright, my Bonded One. P-please..." More helpless hot tears are spilled over the dying scout's unresponsive deathly pale visage as Valor keeps cawing in fear and agitation.

Quinn's pained amber orbs minutely open to briefly glance at the unfamiliar strange woman that's holding her curiously before the injured brunette instantly faints once more and the Demacian ranger's eyelids slowly close.

* * *

 **The idea(s) behind the story: This story started as another short attempt at smut. Sejuani would have found Quinn injured in the Freljord after Lissandra had wounded the scout during Quinn's espionage mission. Sej wouldn't help Quinn for free however, medical supplies and resources in general are rather scarce in the frozen plains as you know, and so Sej would have asked for Quinn to repay her with her body and be her personal bed warmer in exchange for her assistance. Sej offhandedly threatens to toss Quinn back in the snow if the trespasser refuses and even warns the scout that this option might be the better one for the scout since Sej isn't a particularly kind lover. Much sexy time ensues and while Sejuani initially mocks the foreigner and doesn't bother making their interactions pleasurable for the weakened/recovering scout the chieftain starts developing feelings for the Demacian. Sejuani starts fearing that Quinn might leave her and return back to her country after she has done paying her debt and so she starts being more affectionate towards the scout in an attempt to make Quinn stay.**

 **That ending reminded me of one of my other posted soulmate stories and I thought, what if the chapter was written from Quinn's point of view and we didn't once again know that Quinn and Sejuani were soulmates until the very ending? Sej desperately wanted to be with the scout and so she offered Quinn that shady deal. This is similar to the other story I mentioned, but hey I like the concept and I never said that my pieces were original. But unlike usually I couldn't just drop that bomb in the last few lines, we need to know that there are soulmates in this universe for it to have any impact and not be a random forced ending.**

 **And that's how this short story came to be. I started wondering, if Ionians are blessed and can recognize their soulmates and celestial beings can uncover them due to the changes in their magic, what makes the Freljordians unique? How does the bond affects them? I then came up with the visions, since the barbarian tribes are so close/exposed to nature and the elements and shamanism made sense for the Freljordian culture. The story could also explain Sej's demeanor if she was bitter for failing to find her soulmate and that changed her over the course of time.**

 **Possible plot twist we never mentioned who is Sejuani's soulmate, only blurry sceneries that were centered around Quinn so the fated one might actually be Valor! Trolololo. Ok, no it was just a thought.**

 **And that's what happened behind the scenes. Every story is a game of Russian roulette for me with all the paths and possibilities that are available.**

* * *

Inside the secure walls of an ancient glacial fortress a white-haired woman wakes up with a loud, shrill cry of terror. Lissandra pants as she unwittingly clenches her heart, her breath escaping from her mouth through quick sharp huffs of hot misty air.

Liss isn't in danger however.

The Ice Witch frowns as her blind eyes briefly close in thought. It is the time of the Fate Seekers it seems and so those meaningful images have come back to pester her yet again with their stupid night terrors. Lissandra had foolishly hoped that those pitiful dreams would have disappeared over the passage of the centuries, her soulmate succumbing to age and fate even as her own ice-magic preserved both her youth and her body.

And yet here she was still suffering from those pathetic dreams, as disturbing as ever the snippets of her Bonded One kept assaulting her with apparently renewed vigor. And Lissandra is puzzled and annoyed and somewhat scared, even though the intelligent ruler would certainly never admit of such a thing of course. The Ice Witch is unfortunately once again unable to pinpoint the origins of her mysterious soulmate…

Because Lissandra's visions are displays of fire, scenes of roaring flames and odorous brimstone, vile arcs of pointy black towers accompanied by the booming laughter of an unseen threat. Oh and mushrooms of course, so many poisonous deadly mushrooms spreading beneath the earth, engulfed by sinister dark flames of pure evil and obscured by the horned shadow of a short furry creature…

"Hut, two, three, four." The inhuman voice tirelessly counts inside Lissandra's dreams, the numbers repeating every single year. The sinister being's despicable and childish tone of voice almost driving the poor Iceborn woman crazy. Why this? Why her? Why does She has to suffer her soulmate's antics every damn year?! Just what was so important about those damned numbers?!

Meanwhile in hell Teeto is happily counting his nude concubines and wives all the while casually smoking his Maokai-brand cigar. The Dark One then deftly removes his clothes and underwear and gleefully dives into the bed with his awaiting maidens.

"Captain Teemo on duty!" The hellspawn shouts as the naked women around him giggle and approach him and somewhere in the distant Freljord Lissandra is repeatedly slamming her head against a chunk of True Ice in order to make the images of that disgusting union go away. Wait.. is that Ashe?

* * *

 **Note: The T harem keeps growing folks and _our_ favorite yordle has found two powerful allies in Ashe and Lissandra. **

**Ships within ships!**

 **I only need One-shot!**

 **That's gotta sting. 0_0**

 **Mute blissful moans in Sona. (This one is referring to the 'cries in Spanish' meme)  
**


	48. Good Talk

**Tags: Quinn, Teemo, Valor.**

* * *

A lone figure can be heard sniffling somewhere in the gargantuan and magnificent gardens that are surrounding the Institute of War. A familiar brunette scout is perched on a small wooden bench as Quinn finally decides to just give up and cry her aching heart out.

The buzzing of tiny insects and cawing birds accompanies the young Demacian maiden's laments, the silent plant-life all around her the only witnesses to this truly soul-crushing moment.

Quinn stops sniffling for a brief second when small furry arms suddenly wrap around her visibly shaky form, the sad Demacian ranger's eyes instantly widening in recognition when her amber gaze abruptly lands on the considerate and immensely kind visage of her furry best friend, Teemo.

"Quinn, please tell me what's wrong?" The softhearted short yordle reluctantly questions the scout.

"Teeto!" The Demacian ranger abruptly exclaims with evident joy in her face and voice while hastily wiping away her tears before Quinn also engulfs the smaller yordle in a big warm hug.

"Shh.. it's Ok." The friendly yordle quickly replies as it gently pats Quinn's trembling back. "Now tell me what's wrong, Bird-girl? Please reveal to me what problem ails your mind."

The Demacian ranger shakily nods her head in agreement as Quinn raises her eyes to stare straight at the kind short yordle's firmly shut eyelids, the sobbing woman's voice coming out in a solemn quivering tone.

"T-the Summoners just won't pick me anymore, Big T! They say that I am a cheap knock-off of Shauna, they won't let me stay at bot and they instead send me to lane top and mid and even exile me in the damn jungle!"

Teemo as expected grimaces at that last one, the immensely intelligent yordle knowing well how tedious a Jungler's job can be and pitying the poor Demacian girl for having to slave all day in unwarded territory for the benefit of her obnoxious teammates.

"No slave- Ahem! Support for poor ol' Quinn, no smiling caretaker to help her last hit or a beefy tanky babysitter to ping her the enemies on the map whenever a dangerous foe is approaching her! None of those! Nothing at all! Big T, I am telling you, the Summoners hate me!" The young ranger resumes her truly saddening monologue as Teemo keeps patting Quinn's back even as the crafty Swift Scout is already shaking his fluffy cream-colored head in apparent denial and disagreement.

"No, you are wrong there Quiny. It's not you. The one the Summoner's truly hate is actually Valor." Teemo states wisely with both certainty and unwavering determination and the stunned brunette girl can only blink in surprise.

"What?! Why?!" The Demacian ranger suddenly yells at the top of her lungs and briefly stops hugging Teeto so Quinn can distance herself from her fluffy friend a little bit and stare at his solemn round face with puzzlement and shock visible in her agitated expression.

The Swift Scout sighs as if the subject tires him greatly and also saddens him to boot.

"Just look at him" Teemo abruptly mutters with some annoyance in his voice and Quinn's gaze obediently follows her dear friend's gesture only to stumble upon a familiar drunken Demacian Eagle that's wrestling with its fifth opened beer bottle.

"Valor is unreliable, rude and a complete bozo both in and out of the Summoner's Rift, the two of us know that. Just tell me that I am wrong." The short yordle challenges her with a pointed look towards the drunken, stumbling eagle.

"Tell me, Quinn, just when was the last time that you got a new skin released or were considered a viable pick as a bot lane markswoman?"

Quinn blinks as she ponders the yordle's sudden question and the ranger's kind sun-kissed face gradually scrunches up in thought when the female ranger fails to come up with an immediate answer to her stealthy furry friend's musings. Well, she _had_ been a popular pick during the first lethality patch hadn't she? The young woman can't really be sure since those hazy memories of her life are muddled with the taste of innocent blood, agonized death cries and soaked in the bitter tears of millions of outraged Summoners.

"That's right.." Teemo offers in a low and slightly condescending tone "It's not your fault that you aren't popular Quinn, it's all because of Valor."

The dark yordle lets its words sink in for a moment or two as both unlikely friends silently observe the Demacian eagle in the gardens throw up and then open a new beer bottle with its beak before Valor begins gargling down his sixth beer of the day.

"Quinn, which one of you dies the most in a League match? You… or Valor?" Teemo abruptly asks the sad brunette scout when the young girl's tears finally stop flowing over her tanned visage and start drying out.

"Errr? Me? Valor is usually safe high up in the sky. He is untargetable most of the time."

Teemo's expression darkens at that as the Swift Scouts turns to seriously glare at Quinn with his eternally closed eyelids. "Exactly!" The short furry man abruptly exclaims "Can't you see what's happening, Quinn? That damn stupid bird is literary letting you down! He is abandoning you and letting you die when you need him the most!"

Quinn slowly nods in exhausted bitter acknowledgement as Teemo's small fluffy hands suddenly tighten against her hunched stiff shoulders.

"The bird has to go, Quinny." Teemo suddenly mutters and the brunette female scout's eyes instantly widen in shock and horror. "You'll never be a popular pick in the roster with that feathery demon holding you down."

The sun-kissed Demacian's reaction is immediate. Quinn rushes to defend her winged partner.

"N-no! Valor is my childhood friend! I can't do this to him! I owe Valor so much, my very life for that matter!"

"He is a friend?! Just what kind of nonsense are you spluttering, bird-girl!?" Teemo loudly growls in response. "You and I are friends, Quinn. Valor is just a flying rodent that's taking advantage of you! He is taking advantage of your kindness! You owe him nothing! Nothing at all! And if you did somehow owe something to that bucket of dirty feathers and cheap booze what about Caleb's debt? What about your dear dead brother's wishes?" 

Quinn's breath hitches upon unexpectedly hearing the name of her beloved deceased kin and that gives Teemo all the time that he needs to keep weaving his dark web of malice and deception.

"Yes, that's right Quinny. Think of Caleb, poor sad Caleb. Don't you owe it to him to be the best that you possibly could? The two of you wanted to become heroes of Demacia! Shouldn't you accomplish his dream since you are now the only one left that can make it true? Shouldn't you do what is necessary in order to accomplish your common goal in his sacred memory? Don't you want to make Caleb proud?"

Teemo's furry hands slowly slide to grip Quinn's tearstained face and force the young woman to stare straight at the black abyssal slits of his seemingly always closed, scrunched up eyelids.

"Valor is betraying you, that flying demon is backstabbing both you and Caleb. And it pains me Quinny, Gods know how much it truly hurts me to even think of such a wretched thing to do, but you have to get rid of that winged brute before he spits more mud in your and your poor dear brother's honor."

Quinn shakes her head in the crafty yordle's palms, she tries to mutter her hurried denial.

"I- I can't! He! I.. there is no way that I can kill Val! Not even in a hundred years!"

"No of course not" Teemo quickly agrees with a voice softer than the most expensive silk in Ionia. "You are righteous and kind just like that. And I really admire those qualities of yours Quinn. I am not asking you to shoot Valor with your crossbow in cold blood. Gods no, we will give him a little something to let him rest. We will let him go peacefully…"

The treacherous yordle gently turns Quinn's face towards a passed out Valor that's currently sleeping in his own puke.

"Valor there is the last one of his kind my dear, dear friend. He is doing all of this out of pain and sadness, he must truly be really desperate, completely broken."

A hot breath approaches Quinn's ear, the dark yordle whispering its vile reassuring words in the unguarded ears of the presently trusting and vulnerable ranger.

"Poor Val is doing all of this to ask for your help. He knows that you are the only one that can put an end to his pain, his loneliness, his endless misery. You're the only one that he can count on in his time of need. Won't you help poor ol' pitiful Val find peace at last? What kind of owner are you if you would just let the poor bird suffer for your own selfish reasons instead of helping it?"

More tears start rolling down Quinn's tanned cheeks, the Demacian scout's wet eyes practically captured by the pitiful sight of her now drunken, but once proud majestic eagle and the accusing words of the short treacherous yordle.

"A.. bad one?" The Demacian ranger finally whispers after a while with a broken tone and a hesitant shaky breath and once more Teemo starts stroking the woman's back, almost affectionately this time.

"That's right my dearest friend. I know that you are afraid right now, but letting Valor draw breath while he's in so much pain is.. it is in one simple word inhuman. Please, Quinny, don't become a monster that doesn't care for her companions and friends like the Noxians you are _so courageously_ fighting against. Please, don't let poor old Val suffer for your own selfishness…"

Teemo's hot breath is once again tickling the Demacian woman's ear. Lies leaking into her heart and tainting her brain.

"Please, don't abandon your beautiful dream and let down Caleb once more because of your incurable weakness, Quinn. Or.. do you perhaps.. hate Valor, Quinn? Do you want him to keep suffering like this? Is that the reason that you are refusing to aid him?"

Quinn frantically shakes her head and Teemo sighs in mock relief as he slowly pat the Demacian scout's back one last time before he proceeds to _reluctantly_ shove a small green mushroom against the young ranger's quivering fingers.

"That's good… It means that you are still your kind and sweet self. My very best friend in the world, the righteous Quinn that won't stand for others being in pain and that will always try her best to save everyone. The considerate brave girl that ignored the fake gossips and the baseless accusations of the other champions in the League and decided to befriend me when other simply cursed and ignored me. Take this mushroom my dearest friend, crush it and then mix it with Valor's birdfeed whenever you are ready to relieve poor Valor's pain. Whenever you want to save him and be your partner's hero."

Quinn stiffens and Teemo hums the next part kindly. The small deadly object practically dancing in the Demacian woman's trembling grasp much like an abandoned fishing boat during a thunderstorm.

"My remedy won't hurt at all I can assure you. We want to help the old chap after all, not cause him even more agony, right? This time you will save Val even though you couldn't have saved your dear brother.."

The crying scout tries to weakly push the poisonous mushroom towards the yordle once more between her muffled sobs, but Teemo refuse to take it back and the Swift Scout's embrace just tightens around the female Demacian like a starving coiling snake.

"No, no, you can keep that, Quinn. It is Ok. I understand, you are not ready to save poor hurting Val, not yet… But when you are I want you to know that I will be right there for you and that I will help you all the way. And even if.. even if you do fail once again and decide to refuse and let down both me, and Caleb and regrettably enough poor, poor Valor. I will still stick with you, dear friend. I won't let you be alone when your dream fades to nothing and Caleb's honor crashes down and Valor hates you.."

Quinn just sobs something heartbreaking and unintelligible as the young woman continues crying against Teemo's small shoulder and the evil yordle just grins and kisses Quinn head softly, reassuringly.

"No problem, Quinny. That's what friends are for… I will continue offering you my guidance for as long as I can help you… I promise."

The Swift Scouts eyes briefly open behind Quinn's quivering back and a few sparks of hellfire minutely escape from the dark yordle's empty eye sockets.


	49. Vac1 Elo

**Tags: Teemo, Yasuo, Lee Sin.**

* * *

The story starts at a small convenience store, a small rickety building that had been meticulously built years before on the corner of a small secluded street downtown. Various advertising posters and aged yellowish signs are plastered over the windows of the small depressing store, faded pictures of once popular League champions and generally unpopular Summoner's Rift items surrounding its crude grey walls, hastily duck taped there on top of other much older posters.

Some cars can be seen from afar driving by the street once in a while, random pedestrians passing by this gloomy remnant of the past while blatantly ignoring the ancient decrepit League store. The majority of these clearly unimpressed customers not even sparing the open sign that is melancholically hanging on the door a single glance before passing the street and taking their potential business elsewhere.

Behind the unlocked door of the little convenience store the male yordle cashier sets down his newspaper and sighs in sheer boredom. Teemo examines the dusty shelves of his store and the crumpled empty aisles full of useless stuff with a crestfallen expression before he sighs once more and makes to rub a sole frustrated finger against the layers upon layers of dust that are covering the surface of his counter.

 _Cling Cling_

The bronze bell by the door chimes like the trumpets of charitable angels and Teemo instantly puts on a friendly smile on his lips as he turns around to greet his first customers in… probably forever.

"Hello there!" The furry cashier addresses the two weeaboos that have just entered his humble store. One of the aforementioned men being dressed like a samurai of sorts and possessing a flowing bushy ponytail of hair, the other one garbed in the clothes of an Ionian monk with the peculiar addition of having a long piece of red cloth tightly wrapped around his eyes for some odd reason.

The two strangers casually approach the short yordle that is standing on a wooden stool in order to see over the taller counter. Lee Sin proceeds to stand near one of the shelves and fold his arms in a most intimidating manner, while Yasuo leans over the scratched desk to speak at the grinning fluffy cashier.

"Do you have any wards?" The wanted Ionian swordsman murmurs sluggishly as his nervous eyes wander across the crumbling tilted shelves of the store and the empty aisles of the furry man's little cozy establishment. Teemo glances at Lee that's seemingly trying to stare him down from behind his scarlet blindfold and then his gaze returns back to the weeb samurai. Or wannabe Ronin, or whatever.

"Of course." Teemo politely nods with an easy smile as he starts putting things on the antique counter in front of Yasuo.

"We have yellow trinkets, blue trinkets, pink wards and Sightstones! We also have some very fashionable items that generate wards, this sturdy pocket knife for example can hold up to two vision wards in it at a time and its wards can also be easily replenished just by-"

"Shut the fuck up, you squirt! Put all of your Elo into the bag along with your RP cards and influence points!" Yasuo suddenly growls as he drops a ratty bag on the counter while simultaneously drawing his sword and pointing it at poor Teemo. Lee Sin flashes the visibly apathetic yordle a cruel grin as he also makes to leisurely stroll towards the furry man with big and determined strides.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me…" Teemo ruefully mutters under his breath.

"Just put your freaken Elo, RP cards and IP in the bag or Imma gonna give your fucking head a buzz cut!" The enraged Ronin blurts out impatiently as he raises his sword arm threateningly.

"Blindness is no impairment against a smelly enemy." Lee Sin wisely adds his two cents while venomously glaring at a box of Gummy Tibbers, and Teemo simply raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the bare-chested and blindfolded weeaboo monk.

"You know that you are currently talking to my merchandise, right?" The now annoyed cashier loudly wonders and Lee Sin has the gall to openly guffaw before the Blind Monk's fist abruptly collides with an assortment of various goods and colorful candies. Lighters, packets of batteries, cigarettes and cheap lollipops rain down poor Teemo's dusty counter.

"Strike firmly!" Lee chuckles.

The unamused yordle then irritably turns around to address an obviously very angry Yasuo. "Is your boyfriend there stupid or something?" The fearless clerk asks in an admittedly accusing tone.

The bushy-haired samurai's blade descends only to stop mere centimeters away from the throat of the short fluffy cashier, the weeaboo swordsman's face already a bright red from anger and barely reigned hostility.

"Elo, RP cards and Ip in the bag, or my friend and I'll have to start getting physical buddy!

Teemo examines the Ionian Ronin's beet red visage for a second, he then very slowly, very pointedly lowers his hand and rests it against the desk's alarm button.

"Try me." The male yordle states with conviction.

…

The seconds drag by in silence. Teemo and Yasuo are perfectly still, both staring into each other's eyes. Meanwhile Lee Sin is growling at an oval toy vending machine. The Blind Monk's hands securely wrapped around the steel rod that's serving as the base of the capsule dispenser as if the agitated man is attempting to actually strangle it. "Give us the Elo, you fuck!" Lee snarls at the transparent display of the machine "Come on, give us our fucking Elo!"

…

…

…

"Your friend is strangling my toy machine…" The yordle clerk calmly observes and Yasuo swears out aloud as the edge of the blade is swiftly pressed flat against the fuzzy neck of the brave cashier.

 _Cling Cling_

The little bell by the door suddenly rings as a pink-haired woman abruptly enters the store and strolls over to the front counter.

"Two packets of Maokai smokes." Vi cheery exclaims as she impatiently raps her armored knuckles against Teemo's desk, completely ignoring that the Ionian dishonored samurai is currently holding the small cashier at swordpoint. Surprisingly enough the short yordle simply nods in acknowledgement and slides two packets of cigarettes towards the pink-haired enforcer.

"That will be 400 influence points, ma'am."

Vi smiles, drops the correct amount of IP on the short yordle's palm, grabs a red Gummy Tibber from those spilled on the counter and then the Piltovian policewoman just departs from the convenience store whilst whistling a mirthful tune while walking away. Teemo turns back to face the two quiet thieves in his shop with an immensely bored expression worn on his deceptively fluffy visage.

"So where were we, boys?"

There is a long and pregnant pause as the weeaboo Ronin fruitlessly attempts to make sense of what had just transpired. The deadly Ionian katana slowly sinks back into its sheath.

Suddenly, Lee Sin roars in fury and once more clenches the steel rod of the vending machine. "Give us the fucking Elo, you bastard!" The Blind Monk yells against the transparent glass head of his doomed victim. "Just give it to us or you are dead meat, you hear me?!"

Yasuo faceplams at a loss for words. The fuzzy store owner sends the blind monk a fleeting sad look before Teemo grabs a still intact pack of Gummy Tibbers from his desk and unceremoniously tosses it at Yasuo.

"That's on the house, now get lost before your idiot of a friend decides to headbutt my ice-cream freezer and ends up in the hospital."

The weeaboo samurai can only bitterly nods his head in agreement and drag his blind companion away.

* * *

 **Notes: So I wrote a lot of things during my vacation and this one isn't even half as weird as some of the other ones that I wrote. Prepare yourselves...**

* * *

0000

Extra: A quiet black-clad figure somehow slips inside the little convenience store without the small bronze bell by the door ever chiming at their arrival. Teemo raises a single curious eyebrow as the cloaked and hooded stranger reluctantly approached his counter.

"H.." The stealthy stranger whispers under their hood and Teemo leans forward, now both of the yordle's eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement.

"Could you repeat that, buddy? The perplexed cashier asks politely and the mysterious figure nods in compliance, an intentionally altered voice muttering 'Of Hunters and Scouts' with some degree of urgency in their fake gruff tone.

"The weird somewhat smutty novel about two crossbow-wielding women and their bizarre blooming romance amidst hate, intrigue and conflict? Teemo questions thoughtfully and the cloaked stranger sharply nods their head at each one of his words.

"Aisle three, right between the Vastayan porn mags and the scientific Piltovian bullshit…"

The hooded stranger stiffly nods and then hurriedly starts tumbling towards their desired smut novels.


	50. Vac2 Kat

**Tags: Riven, Katarina**

* * *

"You are a traitor! A fucking nobody outside of Noxus!" The redheaded woman in the hallway loudly bellows in a sudden fit of pure rage. "What the fuck do you think you're doing here?! Get lost! Get out of my sight! Disappear, you weak deserting albino scum!"

The pale-skinned defector standing in front of the angry noble merely clears her throat from the last vestiges of sleep before speaking in a flat tone of voice.

"…But you're the one that's standing in my doorway in the middle of the night, Katarina." Riven calmly replies mechanically as the pale warrior's scarlet gaze carefully examines the current sad and obviously inebriated state of the arrogant Noxian assassin.

"That's your excuse, traitor?! Well then, I don't give a fuck! Get lost you dumb pansy!" The Sinister Blade drunkenly slurs as she takes a threatening step forward and proceeds to jab an accusing finger against the concrete wall. Repeatedly, as if the wasted green-eyed aristocrat is truly trying to drive some kind of point home. Unfortunately for the infamous Sinister Blade of Noxus however, the frowning Exile that is patiently listening to Katarina's acidic words doesn't have the slightest idea of the intended message's jumbled content.

"And at least, _I_ have the guts to confront somebody alone you cowardly bitch!" The flustered red-faced noblewoman venomously spats out as she snarls towards the plain wall in front of her face. "What the fuck did you bring your twin sister here for, huh?! One of you isn't enough to take on _a real_ Noxian?!"

The exiled swordswoman opts to silently stare at the scowling visage of the slurring, violent noblewoman before her with a neutral and unamused expression instead of actually replying to Katarina's inebriated taunting.

"Kat, is there an actual purpose behind you coming here and waking me up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason other than you to scream at the walls of my apartment complex?" Riven curiously wonders under her breath even if she already suspects that the answer to that question is a thunderous drunk 'no' judging by the half-empty liquor bottle that's loosely clenched in the fiery noblewoman's fingers.

"I have no reason to answer to your or your ugly twin sibling's questions, traitorous scum!" The drunken Noxian assassin heatedly roars before she pauses to consume a generous amount of muddy brown liquor out of her half-empty bottle. A lot of that strong alcohol ending up drenching the assassin's clothes when the rim of the mentioned container accidentally misses the redhead's mouth. Katarina then takes a deep, ragged, uncoordinated breath before she once again snarls at the mass of concrete in front of her nose.

"Fuck you!" The inebriated female noble finally exclaims. The fiery redhead continues making a fool of herself as she attempts to shove Riven's wall away from her beet red face, and then even spits at its cream-colored immovable surface for good measure.

"D-damn.. huf.. huff.. you've really let yourself go after fleeing from Noxus, Riv." Katarina pants and huffs as she unsuccessfully reattempts to shove away the cream-colored wall and utterly fails miserably.

"W- huff... huff.. what the fuck do you eat to put on this much weight!" the drunken redheaded Noxian angrily growls in clear distaste" I can't even barge you, you fat cow!"

…

With a still raised eyebrow and her usual trademark frown decorating her stoic pale face Riven slowly closes the front door leaving the drunken female noble to fight it out with the sturdy concrete wall outside. Katarina's slurred inebriated insults raining down the empty hallway like a tropical thunderstorm in Bilgewater, completely unperturbed by the Exile's evident absence.

"Yeah, that's right! You better run! Go drag your fat ass inside your little stupid apartment! Cower under your bed you scaredy-cat! I.. I.. I'm guessing that you are still sleeping with a teddy bear you giant crybaby!"

Silently standing alone inside her small living room and away from prying eyes the Noxian exile briefly grimaces when she hears her neighbors unlocking their doors before sleepily shuffling their feet towards the brash drunken fool outside. A few questions fly about across the now lit narrow corridor as Riven settles down on her bed and tiredly closes her maroon-colored eyes with a long sigh.

"Stupid Kat and her silly inebriated blubbering," The exiled white-haired swordswoman lowly mutters to herself in the dark as she reaches for a particular object in the thick impenetrable darkness. "Of course I don't sleep with a teddy bear or a doll. Tsk. Why would I need such childish things when I have you lying around?" The pale Noxian warrior drawls fondly as her fingers coil around a familiar black shape that's looming over her bed-stand.

Riven affectionately clutches the remaining part of her shattered runic blade against her chest and cuddles with it until she soon falls asleep to the sounds of Katarina's muffled yelling coming from outside.

* * *

0000

Extra: "So please, stop this pacifist-bullshit and come back to us, okay, Riv?" The knelt redhead drunkenly whispers in a hoarse voice as her face slowly moves towards the pale warrior's frowning visage. "Please.." The inebriated woman lightly whispers. "I know that I am a bitch sometimes, but I really love you." Katarina confesses with her breath ghosting over Riven's lips. Only when her beautiful exile doesn't seem offended by her close proximity and doesn't outright push her away, does the redheaded aristocrat dare to kiss her at first and then deepen the kiss and show Riven the depth of her feelings.

"I luv you." Katarina murmurs gently as she continues dragging her tongue against the corridor's wall. "I fucking love you so much, Rivy…" The drunken redhead keeps croaking lightly in the deserted hallway's almost complete darkness.

Standing frozen by the open doorway the actual Riven blinks in a state of complete shock as she unbelievingly watches the inebriated affections of the fiery redhead take place, the blanket the stunned Exile has been holding in her rigid arms silently slipping down from the pale warrior's suddenly numb fingers.

"Took you long enough, sis!" A high-pitched voice abruptly rings out in the hallway. Teemo suddenly appears out of nowhere in front of the drunken redhead, his furry face smudged all over with Katarina's ruby lipstick. "I thought this drunkard here was going to devour me!" The enraged yordle yells out in outrage before it marches away from the two stunned Noxians while swearing aloud.


	51. Vac3 Bravo

**Tags: Lux, Riven.**

* * *

A sole tanned figure can be seen standing near what could barely pass as a two-storey stone tower made out of canvases, wooden planks and numerous painted pieces of repurposed cardboard boxes stacked together in order to hide the brittle skeleton of the fake medieval building. The solitary figure stares at the sad excuse of a construct for a moment before it dramatically raises its arms towards the ceiling, the surprisingly hot, blinding yellow light of a few antique spotlights gently cascading over an unruly mop of snow-white hair.

Riven sighs exaggeratedly as she longingly stares at the black hole of the tower's shadowy, painted cardboard balcony.

"Another night and here I am, desperate to bask in the beauty of my kind Demacian sun, the fair maiden Lady Luxiet." The former Noxian commander states in a soft tone of voice.

"But the hours run by and I have yet to lay eyes on her. Oh dear fates, could it be possible that my fair Lady has shunned me for another?"

Riven's loud monologue ends as the exiled warrior abruptly turns on the stage with her arms still extended outwards, her crimson eyes wandering across the sea of occupied seats as if she is directly addressing the silent spectators below.

…

Somebody in the crowd coughs awkwardly, Kled is currently asleep on his seat and Sona smiles at her in approval. Meanwhile Cassiopeia, the Serpent's Embrace is already sniffling faintly against her handkerchief and wiping the first tears away from her puffy red eyes.

 _Tsk, tough crowd…_

The Exile pauses for a second until her words fade completely and silence engulfs the spacious dimly lit room. Riven's face then morphs into an expression that is more natural for the battle-hardened war veteran, a deep and serious frown.

"So be it then," The saddened Exile suddenly exclaims and her broken blade is abruptly unsheathed from her belt and raised proudly in the tense air. "With this shattered sword I will pierce my aching heart! Here will the fair maiden, Lady Luxiet discover my cold lifeless corpse like an altar, a monument to her beauty and grace. And if I can be fortunate enough to witness Lady Luxiet's radiance one more time before I die, Oh stars in the night sky! Please.. whisper my love to my kind and noble lady."

Riven then turns towards the quiet stone tower and kneels on the faded green mat that loosely represents a field covered in grass and lush vegetation. The Noxian warrior ominously raises her sword about to sever her own life. The black stone of the runic blade glinting under the yellow flare of the spotlights.

"Banish such thoughts, Riveo! Cast them away at once like your love has so admirably dispelled my loneliness. Like your voice has chased away any notion of unease that has been plaguing my tortured soul for endless long years."

Lux hastily emerges on the balcony of the fake tower as she exaggeratedly tosses herself against the railing with apparent fright, looking at the tanned Noxian woman down below with an expression of urgency plastered on her gentle and concerned face.

Riven freezes, the initially descending broken sword suddenly stilling within her grasp. Its hilt clasped in her numb fingers.

"O fair Lady Luxiet, you truly are a sight for sore eyes. Your mirage like a dream for a thirsty soul, your beauty shames the stars and your mere presence is like a balm for this humble scarred soldier. I thank you. Oh, how I thank you for your immense kindness, Lady Luxiet, but now I can't help but wonder: Just _how_ could I, this crippled woman stand beside you and dare to accept your hand in marriage and your sincere affections? I can't of course… I wouldn't! Much better to toss myself against the remnants of my obsidian sword than to take advantage of your heart and accept this sacred union that is doomed."

The runic blade is dexterously flipped inside the pale Noxian's grasp, the weapon's chipped edge dramatically pressed against the bandaged chest of the former soldier. Riven minutely closes her eyes as she takes a deep, long and shaky breath.

"So be it, my love! But know this Riveo. If the sharp runic steel mercilessly runs you through and stops your heart forever, a poisonous Zaunite concoction I will instantly down in response and let its vile nature also end my life! For if I allow one as brave and pure as you perish before my very eyes and let you shatter both of our hearts with this broken sword that you carry, then I would be undoubtedly undeserving of happiness due to this great, terrible sin. My heart cruelly emptied from love and hope even with blood still pulsing inside my veins.

Riven abruptly blinks in sudden fright, the warrior's maroon-colored orbs instantly widening in fear as the Noxian deserter spots Lux removing the cork of a disguised Corrupting Potion, a sticker decorated with a smiling skull over two crossed pearly white bones having hastily been slapped over the small glass container for the sake of the play.

The two champions stay still, silently staring at each other with seemingly determined and stubborn, narrowed eyes. Riven is pressing the edge of her broken weapon against her bandaged chest while Luxanna is holding the rim of the transparent flask against her frowning lips that are presently forming a taut, straight line.

The spotlights lazily dim as a new third voice unexpectedly emanates from amidst the stage's shadows.

"And so Lady Luxiet and Riveo accepted each other's affections and the two of them were happy for many, many years, "Prince Jarvan leisurely narrates as he proudly walks to the center of the grand stage "Until death finally claimed Riveo one terrible, truly wretched night." He solemnly adds.

"But even then," The hulking prince smoothly continues over the sound of Cassiopeia's loud sobbing. "Lady Luxiet drunk the Zaunite poison as she had promised to her beloved and followed her lover into the inky swirls of the void. The couple's quiet heartbeats joined in oblivion once more, the two of them being together in death the same way as they were during their long happy lives..."

Two shadowy figures approach Jarvan from behind. The spotlights flash once again revealing Riven and Lux standing on either side of the Demacian prince and the three actors smile warmly as they grasp each other's hands and bow politely at the crowd.

...

The sheer volume of the spectators' applauding almost deafens the three champions, cheers and loud clapping thunderously echoing inside the actors' eardrums. Their faces quickly colored beet red due to all of the high praises they are receiving.

"Bravo! Bravo! That was magnificent!" Jhin yells in delectation. The Virtuoso abruptly stands up from his seat and starts clapping with gusto. "Bravo!"

Meanwhile Riven is still trying to wrap her head around how prince Jarvan and the rest of the Demacian champions had managed to convince her to participate in their little summer play.

* * *

 **Notes: O Riveo, Riveo, wherefore art thou Riveo?**


	52. Vac 4 Rain in Piltover

**Tags: Caitlyn, Vi**

* * *

The pitter-pattering of the falling raindrops against the windshield is muffled considerably from the glass and the durable alloys that are surrounding her before the residue of the muted sound has the chance to reach Caitlyn's ears. The brunette Sheriff of Piltover glances at the line of immobilized hex-mobiles in front of her on the road and then turns the engine off with a faint resigned sigh.

It was a well-known fact that it didn't rain much in Piltover. The scientists and inventors inhabiting the city were too concerned about the wellbeing of their experimental machinery and too protective of their malfunctioning prototypes to allow something as simple as rain to interfere with their scientific researches.

Flying drones equipped with humongous turbines were daily deployed to patrol the sky, dissecting the clouds with their powerful propellers, while farther away from Piltover automatic countermeasures would bombard the rainclouds with dry ice forcing the clouds to drop their life-giving payloads before officially being accepted into Piltovian jurisdiction.

Hex-machines were new ground even for the crafty Piltovian folk, however. Sometimes a circuit would short-circuit, a warning light bulb would burst or an artificial hex-core would run out of juice during the cloud bombardment process. Sometimes raindrops would wash away the dirt off the rooftops of the great city and remind the Piltovians that they were still mere humans.

The power-lines on the streets and highways of the big grey human nest would go offline then in order to avoid damaging the energy network and prevent accidental power discharges. Without the extra kick of the power-lines' energy to augment the mediocre output of the lesser hex-cores powering their vehicles, the ingenious citizens of Piltover were compelled to wait the rainstorm out inside their silent casks of miserable molded steel and ponder on their insignificance.

Personally, Caitlyn didn't really mind the rare sight of fleeting raindrops reaching her city at times. The trouble the occasional rainstorm caused was a necessary evil, but much like herself it also served a greater purpose as it fried unsuspecting wandering robots and destroyed spinning cobalt dishes or created all kinds of static in most communication channels and devices.

The rainwater washed away the accumulated layers of chemicals and soot that clung on the buildings after being wafted there by the research laboratories of Zaun, down below. It filled the water tanks that were fitted inside the abyssal walls of the great chasm and after some careful purification the gathered raindrops also provided both of the gargantuan city-states with precious drinking water.

Unbeknown to most people the intruding and, oh so damnable rain clouds unwittingly provided the Zaunites and Piltovians with a healthier life and a relatively cleaner living environment for them to tinker with their ingenious creations. All of these valuable benefits for nothing but a few minutes or sometimes short hours of outdoor power distribution inconvenience whenever such a thing even happened.

Caitlyn considered it a fair trade.

"It's raining… I would have thought that you guys would have made your city rainproof by now with all the gizmos and eccentric sentient robots that are parading on the streets like they own the place."

Caitlyn hums as she directs her attention to the separated back compartment of her police cruiser, glancing at the speaker through the reflection in the vehicle's front mirror. The pink-haired crook that is sitting in the back of the hex-car is simply looking outside at the falling raindrops with a reserved expression worn on her melancholic tattooed face. The criminal's handcuffs momentary shine brilliantly as a lone thunder far away splits the black blanket of the upset sky apart. All color seemingly receding from the illuminated cityscape of Piltover.

"Me too.." The Sheriff lightly admits as the brunette policewoman's thoughtful brown orbs naturally gravitate back toward the blocked off road and the lifeless machines that are silently lying in wait.

"Perhaps some things are just not meant to be, I suppose." Caitlyn muses softly after a while and the pinkette in handcuffs snorts from the back of the slumbering hex-mobile, her fatigued gaze wandering back to the abundance of little transparent raindrops that are sliding down the glass of her reinforced window.

"Perhaps.." The quiet pinkette finally mutters in grudging agreement after a minute or two, her voice barely audible over the sound of the falling rain.


	53. Vac5 Quinn and Vayne

**Tags: Quinn, Vayne, Yuri, Slight sexual depictions.**

* * *

A soft needy purr is reverberating from deep within Vayne's chest, the noble vampire's pale fingers buried in Quinn's short brunette trenches as the crimson-eyed Night Hunter continues hungrily kissing her younger lover. The Demacian scout happily responds in kind as she moans against Shauna's full ruby lips, the volume of the ranger's breathless whimpering seemingly doubling in volume when Vayne tenderly slides her warm palm against the lower stomach of the shivering brunette.

"S-Shauna!"

Vayne growls, the cursed solitary huntress' vampiric instincts abruptly resurfacing as Shauna pulls herself closer to her mate under Quinn's purple bed sheets. The mattress beneath the two women complaining loudly as the pale huntress makes to remove the upper part of the young ranger's pajamas. Diluted red orbs easily finding Quinn's loving amber gaze in the dark causing something pleasant and warm to suddenly build up inside the ribcage of Shauna.

The purring sounds escaping from the needy vampire intensify along with Vayne's need for her mate's affections. Scorching hot heat flooding the cursed Demacian noblewoman's core like lava spilling out from the depths of an erupting volcano.

"Q-Quinn.. I.. I..!"

The brunette ranger smiles reassuringly as Quinn gently cups Vayne's pale blushing face for another quick loving kiss as she starts assisting Vayne in removing her pajamas. The unexpected sound of the bedroom's door abruptly creaking open however makes both women freeze in surprise, their bodies separating from each other so the couple can face and identify the unwelcome intruder.

"Val?" Quinn mutters after a while when the great Demacian eagle shyly appears on the opening of the door, and Valor responds to his owner's puzzled tone by hopping forward a few steps so the perplexed scout can take note of the tiny pillow that Valor clutches under one wing and the small azure-colored blanket that he holds in his powerful talons.

"Did you have a nightmare, perhaps?" The kind Demacian ranger wonders aloud. Valor replies by cooing miserably for a bit and sadly lowering his feathered head in immense shame. Quinn's expression softens as the scout shoots the Night Hunter an apologetic look before her gaze returns back to poor Valor.

"Do you want to sleep with us tonight?" The considerate brunette woman asks causing Vayne to collapse back on her pillow with a long disappointed sigh as Valor readily hops towards his owner. The huge eagle hastily landing between the two lovers and then settling down next to the head of his concerned owner.

"Sorry, Shauna." Quinn apologizes once more towards the seemingly catatonic vampire that's lying on the other side of the bed. Vayne sighs one last time as she turns her head to face her amber-eyed lover.

"It's not your faul-" Vayne begins saying, but the peeved Night Hunter pauses when Valor takes advantage of his owner being distracted while tucking him in to send Shauna a mocking wink and a sinister beaked smile. A smile so victorious and taunting and drenched in apparent smugness and indignation that the noble vampire could as well imagine it being worn on the lips of the actual Deceiver.

"-t" Shauna seethingly finishes her sentence as Valor lazily turns his back on her and proceeds to snuggle against her unsuspecting mate.

"Goodnight, Shauna. Goodnight, Val." The oblivious brunette scout closes her eyes as she wraps her arms around the covered form of her poor winged partner that just had a nightmare. Valor happily purrs against the ranger's cheek and Quinn smiles at the thought of her beloved feathery friend hopefully calming down.

"Goodnight…" Vayne bitterly mutters barred away from the warmth of her precious mate due to the cunning schemes of the devilish flea-bucket. Shauna awkwardly wraps her arms around both Valor and Quinn in a desperate attempt to be closer to the soothing body heat of her dear lover.

Safe inside the embrace of his sleepy owner and nearly invisible under the shadowy veil of darkness, Valor grins cruelly before he stealthily pecks at the vulnerable fingers of the unlucky vampire. And Vayne quietly swears under her breath as she retracts her arms away from the body of her sleeping brunette lover.


	54. Vac6 A fairy in Demacia

**And after those mugging stories for all the family we return back to our regular Yuri program.**

 **Tags: Vayne, Lux, Yuri, Friendship?**

* * *

The sounds of muffled moans and throaty whispers are starting to get on Vayne's nerves, the awkward quivering of the feminine body that's pressed against her chest even more so. All in all, the vexed Night Hunter couldn't really decide what notion was more idiotic than the other at this point, the Summoners ordering all of the League's marksmen to have a sleepover while sharing sleeping bags with their supports in hopes of improving their coordination, or categorizing Ahri as a support and unleashing the horny Ionian vixen upon the poor Loose Cannon?

 _It was probably the latter,_ the Demacian vampire reluctantly decides judging by the sheer volume of the loud groans emanating from the direction of poor Jinxy. _Yes, it is definitely the second,_ Vayne mentally concludes when the insane troublemaker suddenly goes limp after releasing a muffled whiny yelp followed by a very violent shudder.

The petite body that's pressed against Shauna's chest visibly quakes when Ahri starts giggling _good-naturedly_ above the prone form of the spent Zaunite woman.

"A-are we supposed to…" A meek feminine voice hesitantly questions below Shauna's rigid chin, Luxanna's bubbly personality temporary receding due to their current circumstances.

"No, just try to sleep."

Lux sighs in relief from the crook of Vayne's neck, the light mage's warm breath unwittingly caressing the vampire's exposed throat and underjaw. Merely a second later the madly blushing Lady of Luminosity abruptly realizes that she is practically inhaling her paired markswoman and moves away from the pleasant body heat of the infamous Night Hunter. The blonde noblewoman barely manages to crane her neck backwards for less than a single centimeter before the thick fabric of their shared sleeping bag halts her tactical retreat and ruins her chances of avoiding more future awkward moments.

Meanwhile Ahri giddily resumes playing with her unfortunate lane partner. The vast majority of the champions that are trying to sleep on the floor of the crowded mess hall audibly sigh as one simultaneously.

"Stop fidgeting so much! Especially when your knee is grinding between my legs whenever you move, Luxanna…" Vayne offhandedly mutters causing the blonde support that's currently pressed against her chest to blush even harder.

"I'm so sorry, Vayne! I promise you that I am not doing it on purpose. It's just that there is not enough space for the two of us inside the sleeping bag and-"

"I know." The older woman growls cutting off the longwinded nervous apology of the blonde blue-blooded maiden. "Now stop speaking against my neck, it's tickling me."

Not trusting her voice anymore and wanting to appease the cranky noblewoman, Lux attempts to silently nod her head in agreement instead of stuttering an apology this time which unwittingly results in her planting a small kiss against the pale milky throat of the unprepared Night Hunter. The young light mage grimaces and closes her eyes in embarrassment when Vayne takes note of the quick kiss, the brooding hunter's already rigid posture now stiffening considerably.

"I'm just going to assume that kiss was completely unintentional and forget about it for both our sakes. Now, _please_ , let me sleep so I can wake up early tomorrow and walk away from this moronic fiasco." Shauna mercifully decides to let the other woman dwell in her misery.

The cursed huntress closes her eyes and tries to tune out Jinx's frantic yelling and her teammate's uncomfortable fidgeting as she grudgingly lets her nocturnal body relax in the relative darkness of the colossal chamber. Sleeping at night wasn't easy for Vayne, the vampiric huntress was generally much more used to pursuing evil witches and other such threats after the sun set instead of retiring in the safety of her personal living quarter. But perhaps getting a bit of much-needed r&r was going to help her recharge her hex-cores and increase her efficiency in future endeavors. Or not.

An unwarranted, strange and admittedly pleasant sensation of warm naked skin against her own makes the Night Hunter's irritable scowl deepen. The blonde mage's ceaseless fidgeting had accidentally caused their pajama tops to ride up, and Luxanna, that damned scatterbrained idiot…

When Vayne snaps open her hellish crimson eyes, the face of the bubbly support beside her is bright enough to easily pass for a Piltovian neon sign. The vampiric huntress doesn't even need her nocturnal eyesight in order to guide her scorching hot glare towards her fellow noblewoman's beet red guise, the usually hearty visage of which is presently akin to a lit scarlet beacon.

"Why aren't you wearing a bra, Luxanna?" Vayne lowly hisses accusingly with a faint gleam of rouge also covering the angry vampire's face, and the poor light mage instantly starts trembling more violently and hyperventilating while pressed flat against the frame of Shauna. The Night Hunter remains perfectly still as Luxanna is doing her best impersonation of a fish out of the water. Vayne continues silently glaring at the younger wheezing noble for a few more moments, before the peeved huntress finally lets down her frown with the release of a deep slow sigh.

"Turn around." Shauna lightly mutters in a much softer tone of voice than before and when Lux simply keeps staring at her and wheezing in panic the solitary huntress forcefully spins the hyperventilating girl around in her arms until the blonde support's back is pressed flat against her body.

"Close your eyes." Vayne quietly breathes out as she lets the panicked spell caster lean back fully and rest her head below her pale chin.

"Try to think of something soothing and happy." The black-haired vampire continues. "Imagine wide plains filled with countless vibrant flowers, fluffy clouds drifting lazily across the bright morning sky. You are safe there, nothing can harm you in that peaceful place."

Lux hurriedly nods and swallows, Shauna's body warmth slowly seeping underneath her skin, the vampire's subdued, surprisingly kind tone pleasant and calming. The strong pale arms that are gently wrapped around her waist somehow grounding Lux to reality while scattering away her fears, enabling the blonde hyperventilating support to start recomposing herself.

"Deep breaths," Shauna drawls behind the slowly relaxing mage. "Only focus on taking slow deep breaths, Lux. Everything is going to be alright. I'm here."

The younger woman minutely nods one last time, instinctively obeying Shauna's gentle commands. Anything other than the calming presence of the cursed Demacian aristocrat briefly disappearing from the blonde girl's mind as Luxanna's ragged breathing painstakingly returns back to normal. The light mage's rapid heartbeat gradually slows down, the violent trembling stops. Lux mutedly settles down against Vayne's chest, the young spell caster suddenly feeling utterly exhausted after overcoming her scary ordeal.

"Thank you." The breathless champion tentatively whispers at the quiet black-haired markswoman when there is enough oxygen filling her burning lungs for her to form the two shaky words that undoubtedly fail to fully convey Luxanna's immense gratitude. Not one for holding long conversations Shauna just hums in response.

"Where did you learn doing that?" The blonde light mage dares to ask after a while amidst the darkness.

Vayne closes her hellish ruby orbs, the cursed black-haired noblewoman smiling ruefully behind the back of the younger Demacian aristocrat.

"I used to have a lot of panic attacks as a child." The brooding vampire whispers softly in the dark. "One day a little blonde fairy that had come to visit my family with her parents found me crying and hyperventilating in the garden and taught me that nifty little trick while trying to help me."

"A fairy? Truly? One of them actually visited your parents' home in Demacia? Vayne, you aren't just messing with me, are you?"

The Night Hunter's small smile widens.

"Oh, but she was really there." The curse noblewoman fondly states with sincerity. The unnatural ruby eyes of the smiling vampire slightly open and then dip down to mirthfully stare at the back of the head of the visibly doubtful support mage.

"She.. just doesn't remember our first meeting." The vampire finishes softly.

"Really?" Luxanna questions.

Shauna simply smirks in the darkness. Content in holding her first childhood friend in her arms after such a long time as an annoyed Lux begins pestering her with a barrage of questions.

 _The End_

* * *

 **Vacation Note. Day 18: I am still writing things and thingies. Already dreading retyping these stories from my faulty tablet to my computer upon returning and then editing them. I have written enough Vayne ships to have a naval battle.**

 **Extra: Contains Yuri, Smut, Sexual depictions, coarse language, smug spell casters and Cassiopeia being a snake, but not a kitten. No, Sir! That's Nidalee.**

* * *

"This is ridiculous!" Vayne growls out aloud in pure outrage, the frustrated vampire's face painted a vivid red, her frantic breathing wheezing and hitching akin to the thundering beating of her aching heart. "Just who the fuck is arranging these things and why are we supposed to sleep in our shared sleeping bags naked! Why three people per bag this time and why the fuck am I the only one being handcuffed?! With pure silver of all things! You two aren't even supports for fuck's sake!"

"Adc's in 2K17, sugar." A sultry feminine voice responds while Katarina wearing a deadpan expression casually slips a hand towards Vayne's legs. "

You are always getting the short end of the stick, honey." The Noxian assassin's cruel smirk instantly widens when her deftly fingers find their intended target eliciting a small moan from Shauna. "Always getting fucked by the mid laner."

A pair of mutated taloned hands suddenly cups Shauna's breasts from behind, two poisonous and sharp snakelike fangs minutely emerging out of the restrained vampire's bruised neck to glint ominously in the darkness behind Vayne's beet red ear.

"The mid laner, the jungler, the enemy support. Practically everyone is literary taking the poor adc's nowadays…" Cassiopeia mirthlessly chuckles to herself as she gently nibbles at Shauna's earlobe almost affectionately. ",and bends them over!" The Serpent's Embrace abruptly hisses as she gives Shauna's breasts a hard squeeze and the handcuffed vampire can only grit her teeth in anger and arousal.

"So don't get angry about this, Night Hunter." The cursed Noxian seductress lowly whispers as the tip of her snake tail is pressed against a place that it shouldn't be, making Shauna stiffen in fright. Katarina solemnly nods as she keeps Vayne still, trapped between the shapely curvaceous figures of herself and her younger sister.

"That's right. If you want to blame somebody about this.. then, blame the current Meta." The Sinister Blade sagely concludes as the older of the two redheads leans down to kiss the Demacian vigilante's lips and silence Vayne's protesting moans when Cassy suddenly decides to use her snake tail in an admittedly very interesting way…

"Mmmmmff!?.. Mmmmf!.. Mmf?" Desperately screams Vayne against Katarina's lips.

…

…

"Mmf?"

Vayne blinks owlishly as the tip of the Noxian seductress' tail starts carefully moving around inside her left ear. Katarina growls in frustration as she angrily peels her mouth away from that of the Night Hunter.

"Seriously, Cassy?!" The fiery assassin heatedly bellows at her younger sibling in rage. "I thought that we agreed that you were going to sodomize Vayne with your tail! Not clean her ears, you damn serpentine hygiene freak!?"

"But Kat…" The other Noxian aristocrat childishly whines at her older sister. "I don't want to put my tail inside such an unsanitized place!"

The redheaded assassin takes a deep calming breath.

"You are dead to me," Katarina hotly replies as she gets out of the accused sleeping bag and barely manages to lift the naked female vampire in her arms, bridal style.

"Come on, Vayne." The stubborn redheaded assassin angrily grits under her breath, the Demacian noblewoman in her arms watching the entire exchange between the two siblings with confused red eyes. "Let's take this affair elsewhere, because apparently, PRUDISH CASSY OVER THERE IS TOO MUCH OF A PUSSY TO MERCILESSLY RAM HER PRIZED SNAKE TAIL UP YOUR LITTLE VAMPIRIC BUM!? SOME _NOXIAN_ SHE IS!?" Katarina screams the last part like a mad banshee as she seethingly carries the flabbergasted Demacian blue-blood away from the shocked crowd of startled League champions.

The Sinister Blade then promptly leaves the mess hall and all of those pairs of startled eyes inevitably gather around the stunned figure of Cassiopeia.

The speechless lamia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to calm her tattered nerves. She then proceeds to glare back at the sea of alarmed faces of her fellow champions before raising her chin in a defiant, but dignified manner.

"I am not a pussy," Cassiopeia confidently states in a clear and authoritative tone. The lamia pauses to let those important words sink in. "I am a magical reptilian-human hybrid.. of sorts." She explains.

The encompassing silence that supersedes that bold statement seems to be stretching out for long eons, until suddenly Renekton jumps out of his sleeping bag and starts clapping slowly.

One by one the other League champions in the mess hall join him, the unexpected applauding soon becoming deafening by the second!

Cassiopeia offers her audience a polite serpentine little curtsy and then slithers away with her head help high, accompanied by the sound of the loud cheering of her peers.

…

"What was that about?" Ahri curiously wonders amidst licking the salty tears off the blushing and frothing face of an almost unconscious Loose Cannon. The Nine-Tailed Fox's attention soon returns back to the prone form of poor Jinx when nobody bothers answering her question. The panting lunatic sends another pleading look towards Vi that is smoking near the entrance only for the pink-haired enforcer to begin whistling an innocent tune and hastily walk away from the scene of the crime.

* * *

 **Day 18:**

 **A trashy smuty snippet or an actually accurate depiction of the current state of the game?! Could this be the new Harry Potter?!**

– _ **Fictional equivalent of Times.**_

 **And here I was so proud of myself for not jeopardizing this lighthearted Lux-Vayne story. Sigh, I am too bored to even be disappointed at myself right now. Myself is also too bored to be disappointed by I, and me thinks that I should probably stop typing**.


	55. Vac7 Shauna on the rocks

**Tags: Vayne, Lux**

* * *

Vayne just nods at the female yordle when the purple waitress sets down her drink, flashes her a practiced fake grin and then swiftly moves away from the table. The rather lethargic auditory cluster of reverberating nonsensical rumbling, occasional laughter and indiscernible stereo music covering the muffled sound of the departing waitress' footsteps before the short purple woman disappears from the sight of the moody Night Hunter.

The black-haired markswoman can only sigh at this point while Lux oblivious to everything around her at her current inebriated state mumbles something incoherent against Vayne's left shoulder. Once more Shauna has to resist the sudden urge to push the presently unconscious inebriated blonde mage away from her face, but this time too Shauna manages to somehow rein in her sharpened loner instincts and let the poor kid sleep on her shoulder for a while longer.

With a visage as bitter as the taste of the dark fragrant liquor that the pale huntress tiredly swirls inside her glass, Vayne takes a small sip out of her glass and lets the obsidian liquid spilling inside her mouth set fire to her throat. The Night Hunter's irritable gaze silently returning back to the slumbering form of Demacia's precious drunken poster child. Shauna gruffly scoffs inside her half-empty liquor glass as the thoughts of the brooding Night Hunter tentatively start unfolding.

 _Just look at her, babysitting drunken brats passed out inside stuffy watering holes instead of putting crossbow bolts between the eyes of the wicked. Was that her job now? Safeguarding rebellious spoiled public idols that couldn't even hold their liquor?_

Admittedly, Shauna could only blame her damned bleeding heart for this whole farce. She could have left at any time after finishing her drink, walked away from this shady establishment and its obnoxiously loud patrons. Nobody would have blamed her for leaving the young Crownguard girl snoozing on the side of her table where she had found her.

The brooding Night Hunter had actually considered that option upon spotting the drunken light mage, she had almost turned around and walked away from the crowded buzzing bar too. But then her damn conscience had to interfere, feeding her mind with images of the young unconscious noblewoman in many unsavory situations that were it for them to occur would definitely scar the foolish Crownguard brat for life. Sigh…

Bottom line was that Shauna couldn't just leave the bubbly blonde spell caster alone with all the scum that were swarming around Gragas' bar sending the wasted girl lecherous looks and intrigued stares. Shauna had to her immense displeasure quickly realized that she had to stay or something bad was bound to happen to the poor drunken kid otherwise.

Vayne of course would had simply carried the unconscious light mage to a nearby hotel or something and got rid of Lux if it wasn't for the fact that her numerous enemies would had certainly jumped in joy at the rare chance to ambush her while she has busy dragging the dead weight of a potential hostage with her. No, carrying the unconscious Lady of Luminosity elsewhere in the middle of the night was a tempting, albeit terrible idea.

It was an infinitely better plan for her to stay near Lux and keep an eye on the drunken light mage until the streets were safe enough for them to traverse after the sunrise. And while letting the annoying blonde fairy lean on her shoulder for the time being was a somewhat jarring experience for the extremely reclusive Night Hunter, Shauna would unfortunately have to endure the almost forgotten tingling sensation of non-hostile human contact for a few more hours.

It was either that or to just let the damn Crowguard fall off her stool. And although the thought of literally taking Luxanna's weight off her shoulders was definitely an attractive alternative to their current position, there was no point in her trying to keep the other noblewoman safe if she were to let Lux crack her head against the hard concrete floor in the first place.

…Even if a little harmless concussion _would_ most definitely dissuade Lady Luxanna from spontaneously participating in underground drinking contests in the near foreseeable future…

Shauna spares a quick sideways glance at the poor inebriated girl that is lightly snoring beside her and then downs the rest of her drink with a defeated sour expression on her face. Vayne reluctantly wraps one of her leather-clad arms around the frame of the slumbering light mage in order to prevent Lux from accidentally falling from her seat in her sleep. She then signals the yordle waitress near the bar to bring her another one of her caustic concoctions. Vayne could perhaps endure the terrible torment of camaraderie for a few more minutes.


	56. Vac8 Words and sounds

Seated on a small bench outside and hidden behind the breathtaking blooming plant life of the Institute's majestic garden Caitlyn sighs in contentment. The brunette's Sheriff's sky blue orbs avidly following the masterfully crafted lines of her newly purchased book. An interesting fictional novel about the life and ventures of a Zaunite defense attorney trying to free his corrupted city-state from the nefarious machinations of a cruel and notorious chem-baron.

With a rare smile gracing her usually upturned lips and her immediate attention fully focused on the depiction of an intense trial Caitlyn fails to notice the padded feet that are stealthily approaching her favorite reading spot. The low guttural growl that is presently emanating from the large prowling feline behind her also escaping the preoccupied Sheriff's attention before the undetected predator suddenly lunges towards the unsuspecting sheriff.

Caitlyn actually yelps in surprise when half the weight of an adult yellow cougar abruptly lands on top of her lap, the Sheriff's initial surprise at the sudden and so unprovoked scare resulting in her new book ending up sailing through the air after Caitlyn reflexively throws the novel away in her fright. The uncapped purple thermos containing the brunette police officer's beloved herbal tea also unwittingly falling to the ground and spilling its fragrant contents all over the shyly fluttering grass-blades.

"Rusted cogs, Nidalee!" Caitlyn heatedly exclaims when the startled brunette policewoman manages to confirm the identity of the sneaky assailant that is playfully nuzzling her thighs with her wet nose. "Would it inconvenience you to act more subtle and civilized for once or to occasionally behave in a more-"

And then the famed Sheriff of Piltover attempts to angrily glare at the giant yellow cougar that's resting on her lap only for Caitlyn to come face to face with a sparkling pair of big wet feline eyes that are presently glistering in immense, heartfelt sadness. The intelligent policewoman's cognitive thinking process instantly melts from the humongous kitten's sheer adorableness.

…

When Caitlyn's brain finally recovers from its nearly imminent meltdown the stern policewoman finds herself subconsciously petting Nidalee's head that is still casually resting on her lap as if that is actually its rightful place. Caitlyn frowns at once, quickly realizing that the actual problem isn't that she is currently caressing the soft and warm fur of the Bestial Huntress, but the fact that Nidalee is presently nuzzling her hand in her human form.

The cunning Piltovian woman slowly blinks, realizes that what she is doing is demeaning, probably racist and definitely unprofessional and attempts to swiftly remove the offending appendage from the happily nudging scalp of the affectionate shapeshifter.

The resulting warning growl that emanates from the throat of the Bestial Huntress during that action however forces the poor workaholic policewoman to reconsider her choice.

"Nidalee, is there any particular reason for you-" A closed pair of knuckles abruptly muffles Caitlyn's voice, the mischievous shapeshifter using one of her human hands to form a kitty paw of sorts and then pressing it against the moving lips of the puzzled Piltovian Sheriff. Nidalee then lightly tilts her head against the lap of the other woman as if she is a curious newborn kitten.

"You talk too.. much sometimes." The mischievous spell caster tries to find the right words to voice her thoughts. "You use too… many strange… sentences? No, words. You use too many long words."

The Kumungu huntress shifts a little against Caitlyn's thighs until she is comfortable and then closes her eyes for a brief moment. The humanoid cat paw unceremoniously retreating from Caitlyn's silent lips. The Bestial Huntress faintly growls in annoyance seemingly having some trouble fueling this one-sided conversation with the quiet Sheriff.

"It… it is.."

Nidalee's eyes narrow in thought, the Kumungu huntress' tanned face twisting, adopting a troubled expression for a moment as the primal shapeshifter carefully searches inside her thoughts for more specific human sounds.

"It is much easier for me to… listen to you when you aren't talking, C-Caitlyn. No strange… noises? to confuse me. Only you. Only presence, only warmth. That.. that.. I… enjoy."

Caitlyn mutedly stares at the shapeshifter's peaceful face on her lap and then at her discarded book that's lying on the grass a few paces away from the secluded garden bench. The tanned spell caster whines.

With a resigned sigh escaping her lips the Sheriff of Piltover starts lightly stroking the hair of the lazy Kumungu shapeshifter as Nidalee offers Caitlyn a wide feline smile.


	57. Vac9 The Agency

**Tags: No!**

* * *

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Luxanna Crownguard, the one hailed by the righteous folk of Demacia as the Lady of Luminosity nervously shouts as she approaches the secluded hunting cabin in the middle of the quiet green forest. But alas, the only answer the young woman receives is the sound of a scared woodland creature that hastily darts away from its hiding place upon hearing the mage's voice. The dusty cobwebbed windows of the hunting cabin remain silent and uninviting. Eerily and impossibly dark like spilled tar at night.

"I'm here because you recently contacted me about winning some kind of prize?" Lux dares to shout towards the dirt-stained glass as she nears the hut's door. When nobody answers her again the blonde light mage thoughtfully pulls a wrinkled business card out of her jeans and checks the address that is written on it one more time.

' _Vilemaw's Traveling Agency, All the way to hell and back!'_ Reads the simple yet elegant card that had been mailed to her a few days ago along with the letter that had explained to her that she would have to visit the Vilemaw Agency in order to claim her prize. Luxanna reluctantly steps forward after examining the outside of the silent shack for about half a minute. She hesitantly grasps the rusted iron of the doorknob and gives it a small uncertain twist. The rotted wooden planks of the ancient-looking door creak ominously as the heavy and sturdy barrier tentatively slides inwards carving a messy grey path across the thick layers of dust gathering over the complaining floorboards.

A meek nervous peek at the interior of the abandoned shack from the doorway reveals almost nothing new or noteworthy to the young Demacian mage. The front door leads to a shadowed decrepit room filled with more cobwebs and rotted wood. The lost, forgotten memories of a grandiose past lay before the nervous eyes of young Lady Luxanna. The decomposing furniture that are littering the room's floor sticking out of the shadows like the half-devoured carcasses of wooden animals that were thoughtlessly discarded after they were poached in their blackened dens.

"Hello?" Lux speaks nervously as the female aristocrat's sky blue orbs minutely examine the pitiful remains of an age long gone. The quiet girl enters the hut with reluctant and silent footsteps before a heavy feeling of unease, and then crawling dread abruptly come to settle inside the young mage's chest. Luxanna's aquamarine orbs still scanning the old dilapidated room for any signs of life, albeit more frightfully than a few moments ago as short tense seconds slowly turn into long minutes.

But the young blonde mage finds no new footsteps against the carpet of soil and dust, or a lone candle flickering in its cursed solitude. And so the unnatural silence that is practically pervading the gloomy air around the secluded hunting cabin soon turns into invisible weights that pin Luxanna's shoe soles against the filthy floorboards.

"Perhaps coming here alone wasn't such a good idea, after all." The naïve girl muses aloud as she takes a step back towards the shack's oepn door. The young noblewoman being truly scared now, completely unwilling of turning her back against the empty room and its abundance of unnerving inky shadows. A strong pale hand then lands on the female noble's shoulder.

"That's nonsense!" Suddenly quips a sultry feminine voice coming from right behind the mage.

"If you can ignore the old bloodstains on the floorboards and the gravestones hidden in the back of the shack, this place can be surprisingly cozy, and dare I say.. welcoming?" A smiling Elise happily drawls as she pushes Luxanna farther into the hut. And instantly as if to dispute the spider witch's claim a raven somewhere in the woods outside caws forebodingly before the fake niceties even fade.

"Ah! I think I left the stove on!" Luxanna abruptly exclaims as she attempts to make up a quick excuse to leave the mysterious stranger's presence.

"I turned it off for you, my dear." Elise happily replies as she closes the front door and locks it with a coy smile. And the scariest part is that Lux has the very disturbing feeling that the seductive pale stranger isn't joking.

"I think I forgot to put the ice-cream in the freezer! I have to go home and put it at once or the ice-cream is going to melt and spoil!" The young light mage tries to convince the grinning Spider Queen to let her go once more as Lux helplessly watches the front door's key swiftly disappear inside the folds of the other woman's bodice.

...But Elise only flashes the startled girl a predatory smile as she continues approaching her. Instinctively the scared Demacian hastily steps away from the unnerving figure of the pale cultist.

"Ice-cream isn't good for you anyway." The crimson-eyed stranger states almost accommodatingly.

"Y-you don't like ice-cream? Lux nervously stutters conversationally as she desperately dances away from the pale stranger's long confident strides. _Who doesn't like ice-cream?!_ Luxanna silently screams inside her head. Now the scared light mage definitely _knows_ that there is something wrong going on with this frighteningly beautiful woman!

"I rather prefer eating warmer things. Juicer things. Livelier too, for that matter…"

The back of the light mage's foot stumbles over a dusty coffee table. Lux falls down with a surprised yelp, landing on her butt as the rotten furniture crumbles underneath her weight.

"Owie!" The blonde noblewoman groans as she proceeds to rub at her bottom while trying to blink away the tears in her eyes. And when Luxanna raises her frantic wet gaze once more, the Spider Queen is looming over her hunched form. Elise's crimson glare shining brightly in the room's darkness.

"Let me show you what I mean, little fly." The pale cultist lowly growls. The Spider Queen's words already devolving into an impatient inhuman hiss as the evil witch's body begins transforming into that of an enormous spider.

The End

* * *

 **Day21: The goal for this one was the use of fewer descriptions and simpler sentences. I usually go overboard with purple prose so once in a while I try to somewhat simplify my writing style and keep my sentences in check. It doesn't always work, but I like how this one-shot turned out.**

 **A happy, yet perverted alternative Yuri ending because of reasons. Otherwise Lux is dead! She died because you didn't read the extra part. Y-you killed her! You really did, you heartless Katarina main! **

"Oh.." Lux mumbles shyly whilst lying naked on a queen-sized bed right next to the equally nude infamous Spider Queen of the Shadow Isles. The soft purple, lavender-scented bed sheet wrapped around the young Demacian noblewoman's body barely managing to conceal her present indecency.

"When you were talking about eating things I didn't realize that you were talking about.. about… _that_ kind of thing… you know!" The blonde mage complains.

Elise smirks seductively at her cute, blushing light mage. She then chuckles almost pleasantly.

"Oh, Lux. My dear Lux, you would certainly make a fine meal, of that I can assure you." The Spider Queen all but purrs as her eyes hungrily roam the younger woman's body causing Lux to hurriedly hide her bright red face under the bed sheets with a loud embarrassed squeal.

"But luckily for you, my dear little butterfly, I enjoy eating you too much for me to actually eat you."

Elise's teasing smirk only widens when the dark witch hears the blonde noblewoman next to her start hyperventilating under the covers.

* * *

 **Sorry, no sexy Teemo scene for this one, just puns. Maybe next time, don't pun-ic.** **It is fruit-ile. Bee-lieve eat.**


	58. Collaboration

**This chapter is a product of collaboration between the author thestripybag and I.  
**

 **Tags: Teemo, Fantasy, Crossover, Nightmare Fuel, OCs gone wild, The Dark Yordle.**

* * *

"B6." Happily chirps the mad king of brimstone and chaos.

"P-p-please, my lord!" The crying emaciated man pitifully begged as his slave collar suddenly flares a sinister red, the poor prisoner's feet lazily carrying him forward as if having a will of their own. "Please spare me, oh Furry God! I have a wife and ten- No! Eleven kids!.. My wife is a bunny Vastayan, you see! I can't leave them alone!"

"And I shall take a good care of them when you are gone. Please, _rest_ assured." Teemo happily replies as he mirthfully watches the poor Ionian slave drunkenly stumble across the giant scorched Battleship board, the sickly green glow of the countless radioactive mushrooms that are hanging from the ceiling casting a fluorescent green light against the crying, slouching silhouette of the doomed mortal man.

"Especially, your wife and daughters.." The smiling furry demon loudly giggles with his high-pitched laughter, the disturbing sound of the mad king's glee reverberating against the ancient black stone walls of his dreadful throne room. The once proud weapons of defeated League champions placed in rectangular glass displays all over the gargantuan throne room shining with an eerie light.

Priceless magical artifacts like Leona's shield, Ryze's scroll and Grave's _Cigar of Infinite Puffs_ now decorating the dark yordle's sunless, wretched castle.

Teemo pouts when the sobbing Ionian man finally reaches the predetermined tile on the playing board without an explosion ringing in his big fluffy ears.

"Tsk." The very displeased Demon King huffs in immense disappointment as he pauses to take a bite out of his newborn Poro steak and then rinses his mouth with a sip of Meep tears. "Your turn, dear friend." He lowly growls in distaste.

"Thank you, my King." The sadistic Chain Warden hums excitably as he takes a look at the dirty, bloodstained Battleship board. Thresh offers a whiny trembling man an almost encouraging fleshless smile before he gestures at him to step forward.

"C2." The cruel specter finally commands after some careful consideration and the haggard enslaved Piltovian man unwillingly starts marching towards the called numbered tile. A terrifying explosion suddenly rocks the throne room as the scrawny man steps on an invisible mushroom and instantly perishes in a violent explosion of blood, gore and spilled entrails.

The malnourished Ionian slave on tile B6 abruptly screams in sheer terror and proceeds to wet himself as the head of the deceased Piltovian pawn slowly rolls towards the trembling man's bare feet. The unseen lifeless eyes of the deceased prisoner still bulged in both pain and fright, his face twisted in an expression of pure agony.

The rest of the collared slaves standing near the gore-splattered game board huddle closer together whilst muffling their cries with bleeding palms and scarred clenched fists alike.

"Damn you, Thresh!" Teemo suddenly screams in complete outrage with his obnoxious high-pitched voice spreading across the dimly lit chamber like an audible miasma. "Damn you!" The enraged infernal yordle angrily repeats while throwing away his golden platter with crispy Poro bits and hurling his silver goblet towards the despairing crowd of mourning and terrified prisoners.

"You just sank my submarine with one slave!" The wretched King of Hell yells from atop his elevated black throne like an irritating spoiled brat that's throwing a tantrum because it's mommy didn't buy it that expensive new toy the grinning man was showcasing in the hex-tv advertisements.

"You are cheating!" Teemo loudly whines as he points an accusing furry finger towards the cackling form of the devilish Chain Warden. "Your slaves are better mushroom seekers than my own! This isn't fair! I am the one that's supposed to win every time! I want a rematch! I want a rematch, right now!"

The man that is standing on the scorched B6 tile swallows, his wet beady eyes practically glued on the sinister visage of the undead torturer. The Ionian slave's heartbeat dancing inside his aching ribcage.

"But of course, my King…" The evil specter slowly condones Teemo's challenge with a small polite bow. Thresh's incorporeal orbs shining with barely concealed glee as the crafty malicious ghost calmly surveys a swarm of skimpy-clad concubines surrounding the vexed male yordle in an attempt to placate him. Showering the false king with sweet saccharine words, fake compliments and lustful displays of their love for the dark yordle.

"You there," The cruel specter suddenly addresses the relieved Ionian that is currently thanking his good luck for being pulled out of the sadistic death game. "Go clean the rest of the playing board." Thresh kindly orders and the poor man nods his head at once as the Ionian slave's eyes hastily search for a broom or a mop near the empty Battleship board…

Only for the man's initial relief to quickly disperse into immense horror when his collar abruptly flares a blinding sanguine and his feet start carrying him towards the center of the bloodstained playing board.

The poor man's desperate pleas for mercy are soon cut short by the sudden quaking of a second loud explosion.

"Oh, by the way, the guards have told me that Zilean has started rambling again in his cell." Thresh reports when Teemo finally decides to peel his lips away from those of Ahri. And Lux's… Janna's, Diana's, Leona's, Anivia's, Sona's, Swain's crow, Beatrice and surprisingly enough even Ezreal's because Teemo accidentally mistook him for a girl and the Dark Yordle's lust knows no bounds.

"I have no interest in the prophecies of that senile, old fool." Teemo arrogantly states while smirking against Fiora's lips. "I only keep him around to mock him about his age."

"I see.. but are you sure that this is wise, my king?" Thresh questions from his own seat across the gory Battleship board, the undead torturer's ghostly voice laced with a small amount of concern and reluctance. "Zilean was the one that prophesized your rise in power so many years ago after all, my lord. Ignoring the warnings of the Chronomage might be a bad idea."

"Silence, you fool!" Teemo angrily squeals with his trusty blowgun raised towards the ceiling as if it is some kind of an ornate royal scepter. "I command the demons of Hell, I have enslaved the entirety of Valoran and held the title of the cutest yordle in the world for nearly a whole decade! THERE IS NOBODY that can threaten my iron rule! My lecherous harem! My army of robots, devils and mushroom-addicted magical wenches!"

Teemo grins like the madman he is as he stares at the skeletal visage of his loyal backstabbing advisor with big crazy eyes.

"I… AM. A. GOD!" The cuddly tyrant of Valoran finishes, his furry face beaming with maniacal joy.

"Yes, you are." Ahri seductively purrs on top of Teemo's lap, the concubine's smile as utterly sincere and unnerving as the black-hearted yordle's. The other mushroom addicted women splayed near the tall black throne giggle or nod in agreement and Teemo instantly starts cackling with his high-pitched voice stretching under the light of the green radioactive mushrooms. Both fluffy fist held high in a majestic pose of victory.

"Yes, I am!" Teemo loudly laughs now completely out of his mind. "I truly am a God! Now bring me some wine and endangered species to consume, more wives to corrupt! Important philosophy books to burn and adorable puppies for me to kick away!" The evil glint in his eyes then brightens. "Somebody get me Jarvan from the dungeons, I want him to watch as I have my way with his former fiancée, Fiora! Bring me a camera too, my slaves! I want to eternalize the moment Jarvy's tears will flow down his bruised face! Oh, this will be grand! This will be beautiful!"

A sudden knock on the chamber's door makes Teemo pause, a dark seething frown quickly appearing on the scowling visage of the wicked yordle at this admittedly annoying interruption to his victorious cackling. Teemo sighs as he boredly gestures at one of his wives to answer the door, albeit a bit curious as to why the demons guarding the throne room aren't just announcing the name of his visitor.

"Go see who dares interrupt our regal orgy preparations, my dear Fiora." The mad king whines. "And if it is the delivery boy bringing me my mushroom only pizza tell him to join the next Battleship queue tomorrow morning."

Fiora nods with an intoxicated smile on her lips and then disappears behind the humongous double doors of the macabre throne room. An irritated female voice soon leaking from behind the half-open doors and into the depressing, bloodstained chamber a few moments later.

"I should have guessed that bitch Teemo can't even answer his own door without help." The new voice drawls. "Some king he is, just sitting his fat ass all day on his little throne."

* * *

0000

The years as of late have not been kind to the Chronokeeper as a prisoner of Teemo. His once majestic robes are now but soiled tatters with his once majestic beard hand torn off in an attempt to make himself look younger to avoid the mad god's teasing. But a few hours ago while blindly staring into the multiverse to see if there was anything to keep him from staining the walls in his blood from banging his head against the black stone the old man began to cry. These were not the same tears as all who have entered this castle, but of a forgotten emotion called joy. He chooses to speak when the guards close in on his cell to see why he is smiling.

"A demon covered in flowers from a land far away will bring a foe. They will fight with the power of stars as her weapon. The gates will fall after the gatekeeper is fell by his own hands. The blood of the queen will destroy her army with her false pride. All that is left is for king nothing to lose everything. The end will be signaled by the sound of rapid knocks."

* * *

0000

On a cliff surrounded by twisted buildings and above a sea of flames we see a green portal. In a single file line that seems to have no end are the souls of the damned. Despite the cliff being thin enough for only one person gargoyles with wicked spears still line the spires around it. If that wasn't enough to stop any rogue souls from running then the massive Gatekeeper named Galio abolishes such thoughts. However the Gatekeeper and all who have aligned with his master are in for a bizarre threat that while prophesied none of them were willing to listen. The being who is bringing such a threat is a succubus named Pensea. She is wearing a crop top that has a deep blue hawaiian design as well as cuts in the back for her leathery wing and a white long skirt with a slit running up the side which is also practical for her tail. The shapely demon is holding what appears to be a elongated, ruby briefcase that has a microphone on one end and a blue star on the other. As she prepares to walk into the portal that leads into the abyss of fire below a large hand cuts her off.

"Hold it right there! I've never seen you before so I can only assume you're from another plane of hell." Galio states with an arrogant smirk "But if you let me check out what's under that top and skirt I can be reassured you aren't here to cause harm."

The foolish gatekeeper with his shrugged shoulders and smug grin fails to see the stale face aimed at him. Pensea however is able to see the type of corruption that Teemo has spread throughout this plane of hell and why her love would like to teach him a lesson. As her briefcase starts to shudder she throws it high into the air and it starts to wring itself of a putty material. Said putty forms a feminine figure that is wearing a long hoodie that has a constant flow of infinite colors to match its wearer's personality. No matter how hard Galio tries to catch a glimpse of the hooded stranger's face her star shaped sunglasses and mask that look similar to subwoofer speakers always obscure his view. Even without said aesthetics it would be pointless since her hood has an aura to hide her appearance. As she begins to stretch it doesn't take a genius to realize this is the main character of this story who is known mostly by her title of Eccentric has arrived! With her stretches done the briefcase has thinned out into her staff Starpower. As it slides into place on her back all of the light in the valley seems to attract to her and form a spotlight. Before she can utter the first line of her first chapter ever a large fist slams her into the ground.

"Oh man," Pensea breathes out as she looks up at Galio. "You just want to die today."

Eccentric (Showtimey accent) - (On Galio's shoulder) "She has a point you know. I mean you harassed one of my girls, serve that asshat Teemo, and you ruin my introduction to the readers! (Cross-popping veins appear) I mean look at these! Ohohohoho! But lucky enough for me I needed to test out if this place has D4C rules. (Eccentric stops time) By the way readers if you don't know what I mean then allow me to explain. To sum it up if two of the same object from parallel worlds get too close to each other they will cancel each other out violently. I know it's a Jojo reference, but it's actually a pretty relevant one considering some of the things I do."

With time restarting Galio attempts to crush the gnat on his shoulder again but she simply reappears on the opposite shoulder.

Eccentric- "You aren't that bright if you repeated the same thing again or you're going for the definition of insanity. Either way you are a rude person who needs to be put in his place!"

During a match on Summoner's Rift Galio just got a kill but is low on health and the three caster minions in front of him while low just need a couple more hits on the weakened colossus. With a mighty leap he comes down with his Colossal Smash but while his passive goes on cooldown nothing happens. All that goes through the now dead golem's mind is what happened and the sounds of his team going afk. Unbeknownst to him a portal had opened where his fists were going to land. Said portal was connected to another one right above his Gatekeeper persona's head. With the now unconscious demon falling into the pits below our hooded entertainer leaps off of him but not before tearing off some of his beard hairs. The subordinate gargoyles are quick to snap out of their shock and attack the intruding duo.

Knowing she'll be a bit busy with her plans to keep anyone from following the two, Eccentric opens her hood. From the void burst forth several copies of the spicy wizard for you see inside of her hood is a pocket dimension that takes the form of a television studio though that was after she changed it from its previous theatre form with the changing times. With one tanking a volley of spears and arrows for one of her lovers Pensea, Eccentric is able to work on her plan which begins with her flying in circles around the portal. As a squadron of gargoyles attempts to stop her they are immediately downed. The leader falls screaming as his body is covered in flames and is being bitten by flaming ants. His wingman runs into a large bubble of gum that was blown his way which has completely encased him. Their medic attempts to free him but is attacked by an abomination straight out of Eccentric's imagination. It is called a Flicka Flacka due to the shock it's victims experience upon seeing the massive alligator with its insect carapace, magical leaches between its teeth that transforms its victims blood to random liquids, and human flesh that cover its eyes.

As for the last member fuck him for being a rookie he gets transformed into a pile of sentient Poro snacks which are soon being devoured since the gum cocoon has hatched and released a swarm of demon Poros. With her trap in place Eccentric grabs her succubus and fires a tendril at the portal which one of her people's trademark maneuvers. This move is called Coercion and all hooded know it since the first of their kind learned it. The tendril pulls them through the portal and when the rest of the gargoyles try to follow they are sliced apart. While her clones distracted the guards the spicy hooded converted the hair she stole from Galio into a fine wire.

Past the portal the two lovers find themselves in a glass elevator that is descending towards a plain that has begun to swarm with demonic knights from the castle that sits on the nearby hilltop. However these shroom knights are actually the creations of Viktor who has arrived with his queen Syndra to stop any fool who thinks they can threaten their god who helped them conquer the world. While most would be terrified to see such powerful foes Eccentric amidst her excitement has pressed her face against the glass and her dark aura that kept her identity a secret has fallen to reveal a short mess of white hair plus her eyes have begun to glow their natural purple. Wondering what's going on in her soulmate's mind Pensea begins to gentle shake her.

"Eccentric? Eccentric? Alexandria?"

"That's my baby or at least my blood descendent. I mean the other hooded are my family for sure but there is a relative of mine. Ohohohoho! I hope she is using that potential she got from me. *sigh* I feel like the world misses my fun attitude since I passed. I mean sure I could have used lots of different schools of magic to extend my life since I learned them all. But (Grabs her coat tail) my kind is meant to pass on this hood so the next generation can fight its own battles it's way. Hmph I wish we could have gotten me my own solo chapter focused on my story but this will have to do. Seriously what was my writing department doing during this line."

We see rows of typewriters but the monkeys that are supposed to be using them are currently assaulting their handlers.

Eccentric- "Yeah that sounds about right Stripy and Drawing. Payback for making me say those shit puns and for making this mess that I have to clean up."

"Love why are we here again? I don't want to die and I don't want your soul to risk being lost here."

Eccentric- "We are here because you told me about how a tyrant has been forcing together a harem and you know that ticks me off to no end. Plus I'm the main character of this story and if I'm not able to have my harem no one is!"

As the doors open Eccentric pulls Pensea into her hood for safe keeping. Viktor and Syndra are brought forth on a palanquin to meet the rebel soul. Syndra immediately begins to admire the stranger's good looks.

Eccentric- (Throws her arms up) "Wait before you kill me please hear me out. The name people know me by is my hooded title Eccentric. I got this name when my predecessor passed away and I have done all I can to bring fun, uniqueness, and magic to the world. (Points to Syndra) You are a direct descendent of me and have inherited my gift. (Cheshire smile) I would like to know what you have accomplished with said power."

Syndra- "Whether this is true or not I will gladly grace your final moments with a display of my might."

The sovereign summons her three spheres and summons another Dark sphere to shatter a rock not too far from her. With her sheer Force of Will she picks up the remains of the rock and when it is released into the air it has been crushed into the shape of the colorful madwoman in front of her. She summons more spheres which when pushed by her Scatter the Weak break off the statue's limbs. The dark witch calls all of her spheres to her side before her Unleashed Power pummels the remains to dust. After her display is finished her lover Viktor hits a few buttons on his wrist and the shroom knights begin to clap. The only person who isn't pleased with her display is the only person it should have impressed.

Eccentric- (Eye is twitching) "That's it? That's all you can do?! Are you for fucking real?! I basically give you unlimited potential and the ability to learn at incomprehensible rates to the point that you learn all there is in a school of magic just from the most basic spell but you fucked up with that! (Starts to angrily hyperventilate) I hope the timeline I come from you aren't such a fucking disappointment. Now it's my turn but I will show you one attack. (Her shadow aura returns) Behold the ultimate non-natural natural disaster! (Pulls out Starpower) Tsufiranasnekicane!"

As the last word leaves her mouth a freezing wind begins to blow and a hurricane forms above head. With one last look of disappointment and hate Eccentric summons a nimbus cloud made of steel underneath her to carry her to safety. After rising high into the air out of seemingly nowhere a tsunami of boiling oil races across the field. Once it has formed the clouds above not only begin to rain flames to ignite the wave but also an assortment of venomous snakes that are fireproofed for obvious reasons. While horrific damage is dealt to those below on her nimbus that is riding the massive wave the fifteenth hooded simply ignores it and looks at the castle where her next prop lives.

The castle that is now an island surrounded by suffering has its invader land a few dozen meters away from its front door. While at first carrying a visage of hate it quickly turns to sickness when Eccentric takes a whiff of the only food she can't stand or eat. From a portal she summons a preseason seven red ward which reveals invisible mushrooms all over the front lawn. Thankfully this is a variation of the ward before it was nerfed and she is able to simply sprint to the front door. When she reaches it she begins to rapidly knock on it so she can get away from the hell-food scattered around her. A minute later a woman with a streak of pink in her black hair and what could barely pass for lingerie meekly answers the door.

"My lord would prefer if you came back later." Fiora starts saying until realization suddenly dawn on her. "Wait you are not the pizza…"

Before the former duelist can finish her sentence a palm is gently placed on her head. The hand then catches her before Fiora's now sleeping form falls. Pensea comes out of the hood and picks up the poor girl whose classic attire has begun to magically form on her body.

Eccentric- "Darling please take her back to her bedroom so she can think this was all just a terrible dream. I'll summon you when I'm ready to leave (Turns with eyes aglow) and I don't want you in the splash zone just in case. (Fist balls) I stole her memories of her past few years and I saw everything that she has endured. Ohohohoho I might not be able to control myself. (Pensea flies away) Thanks for the next line Drawing. I should have guessed that bitch Teemo can't even answer his own door without help! Some king he is just sitting his fat ass all day on his little throne!"

Deciding that she should get in a little exercise today our rebel walks into the throne room. While everyone else is wondering who the intruder is and why the green glow from the ceiling is casting a spotlight onto them as said intruder is currently about to open some of the glass displays. Before the colorful being can though a hook is wrapped around her neck as Thresh in an attempt to appease his equally fluffy and angry overlord uses his Death Sentence. With a leftover shroom from their game the Chain Warden tries to end the intruder's life by tugging her towards it. While the skeletal ghost would normally incite a feeling of terror in his victims by landing his hook instead of fear he only sees a purple aura developing around the trespasser.

Eccentric has begun to focus her personal energy which was first used by one of her predecessors to combat the undead. With her own twist added she channels her Stardust energy up the hook's chain like a charge of electricity. As Thresh learns what life as a lightning rod is like while also turning into a frog Leona and Diana both crawl a little closer as the aura feels familiar like an old friend's face in a distant dream. Our mad mage then begins to swing her head similar to a head banger which flings the lantern end of the chain high into the air bringing the frog spectre with it screaming in his new froggy tongue. On the downswing similar to a professional fisherman the lantern makes its way into the middle of the slaves cowering in the corner. As if channeling her inner Thresh main Eccentric shouts at them to grab the lantern before using a dozen of her copies to help her yank them to her side of the room. As the slaves begin to flee from the furry tyrant's castle she turns the newly established lake of burning oil into saltwater taffy. Speaking of new Eccentric decides to put her new amphibious friend inside of a familiar place which reveals itself to be the inside of his lantern. The lantern is then shot out of the window before it sinks to the bottom of the delicious lake.

Eccentric- (Pouting) "I wish I coulda carved that ghost up since ghost meat is so juicy and delicious. Darn I could've even gotten some ghost jerky to give Pensea but no I had to go and turn one of our harem mates into a ghost when she died. (Sees Diana and Leona staring) Ohhh I remember now why you two would feel my energy as familiar. It's because when one of my predecessors developed the technique for it the sun aspect from Targon helped her. Now that I've enlightened you both and the audience it's time (Points Starpower at Teemo) for me to dethrone you! Luckily Drawing gave Stripy the idea for me to make you suffer rather than kill you! Oh and do provide more entertainment than your lackeys did since this is the final act! Ohohohohoho!"

Teemo- (Leaps off his throne) "How DARE you mess with the lord of fire and brimstone you… you… you insignificant mortal rat?! I am going to force-feed you my poisonous mushrooms until you break like the rest of these wenches or you explode like all of my previous game pieces. Mwahahahahaha!"

Eccentric- "Hmm while that would be horrible due to how disgusting they taste and I get some bad stomach problems and dry heaving fits all I can say is that the best you can come up with? Ohohohohoho I think I would have gone with the, I'm gonna make it so you puke something horrible whenever you go near anything you like."

The battle begins with Teemo firing blow darts at the ceiling to force mushrooms to rain down. With a tap of her foot the lovely mage removes all gravity from the room. While Teemo is busy remembering his astronaut training Eccentric takes this time to Coercion tendril to the trophy cases before they hit the ceiling. After the writers give her Grave's cigar she begins to buff it rapidly until the entire room is covered in cigar smoke. As everyone is choking on the thick smokescreen a wind blows through the room and clears all of the smoke and negative effects from secondhand smoking from everyone, but the furry despot. The Swift Scout has regained his vision when he notices a stage has appeared in front of him and he is sent flying back into his throne where he is encased in a ball of bricks which the lord of hell starts to try and dig his way out of. As her copy band finishes its preparations the sounds of progressive rock start to fill the room and Eccentric begins to sing a parody of her favorite song.

Eccentric- "Remember when you all were young, she shone like the sun. Shine on you crazy diamonds. Now there's an empty look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.

Shine on you crazy diamonds. You were caught in the crossfire of false godhood and kingdoms. Blown on the Notus breeze. Come on you targets for faraway laughter. Come on you strangers, you legends, you martyrs, and shine! She reached for the secret too soon, she cried for her moon.

Shine on you crazy diamond. Threatened by his shadows at night, but exposed in the starlight. Shine on you crazy diamonds. Well he wore out your welcomes with random precision, Rode on the Notus breeze. Come on you avatars, you mates of the souls. Come on you nobles, you etwahlist, you prisoners, and shine!"

With that last shine a bright golden light erupts from the magical hooded. While all of the harem falls suddenly into a deep sleep with tears starting to stream from their eyes the master of evil escapes his tomb. However by doing so he is exposed to the restorative flash which ignites his fur before it is blown away to show the true form of the Little Devil Teemo. While Eccentric is bathing is the light she fails to see a rock falling from the ceiling which clonks her on the head forcing her to fall asleep. Seeing as how all of his servants are dead, escaped, or passed out the now red-furred yordle is forced to drag his now sleeping opponent into the dungeons below. By the time the wheezing dictator has her chained to the wall his special captive is already waking up.

Eccentric- (Gets Teemo slapped) "Mmm Alcen my fiery little love could you please get my coffee started (Shakes her head) oh it's you."

"You melted away my cuteness and for that I must punish you! However before that I need to break you like the rest of my harem. I do hope you like the taste of mushrooms! Mwahahahaha!"

Before the breaking process can begin a loud bell starts to ring behind Teemo. When he turns to face it he is met with the bored and annoyed look of another Eccentric who is wearing a director beret. She is holding a megaphone and a stack of papers which the iconoclast begins to smack over the yordle's head as a crew of her copies unbind their female lead while in total disappointment of their male lead.

Director Eccentric- "What the hell are you doing improvising this scene?! What do you think this is some kind of cheap Ionian porn?! Follow the damn script I made for you, and you know something I'm tilted now! Where the hell is that donut girl at?!"

When Dave went to work today bringing the pizza offering to the dark lord he didn't expect his life to end the way it did on the thin bridge leading to the abyss below. It being mushroom and explosive related sure but not being blown up while transforming into a human version of the mushroom only pizza he was bringing. With her target stripped and with a few pieces of paper with crudely drawn donuts on them along with some tape Donut girl Eccentric is ready to finish her delivery. We transition back to a horribly confused Teemo and a still flaming director who answers her phone when StripyBag and DrawingDisaster call her.

Director Eccentric- "Alright I just got a call from the writers who tell me that was supposed to happen and it's time you got a shot at us after all we've done to you. (Come at her bro pose) Bring the biggest and baddest move you've got and I will take it unlike your chump self."

Teemo- "Hahahaha. If that's what you want, you delusional fool then I will show you what true power looks like! Raaawwrr!"

The Little Devil begins to grow to an unexpected height before he breaks through his own castle's roof. As if the invader was nothing more than an insignificant toy the now Big Devil picks her up and throws her at the taffy lake. Eccentric bounces off of the surface as though it were made out of rubber before landing back on the beach where the hooded mage started. The light above begins to fade except for the ex river gypsy's faithful spotlight when a massive mushroom covers up the sky. When it has finished forming the weapon of mushroom destruction starts its descent as Eccentric yawns.

With a mushroom cloud of pure evil and smoke laughing its way into the sky the tyrant of cuteness shrinks back down to his normal size. After checking every room in his destroyed castle he heads to the beach to see if the idiotic scum who decided to oppose him is dead. Seeing no one around he breathes in a sigh of relief but before Teemo can breathe it out Eccentric grows back to her original size and crushes the lord of brimstone under herself. With him pinned underneath she takes this chance to smack his crown off his head and fuses a new crown onto it. This new crown isn't your standard piece of headwear since it is made from a preseason seven red ward but with an eccentric twist. Freed from his oppressor's weight the desperate scout attempts to grab one of his shrooms but as he nears it he feels something coming up his throat. A torrent of fish eggs begins to burst forth from his body and it doesn't stop until he is a few meters from the mushroom.

Teemo- "Why did you do all of this?! What did I do to deserve all of this?! I just wanted to rule the world so it could be one of peace! Who are you?!"

Eccentric- "A few cliché questions but I will answer them nonetheless. The name you may call me by is Eccentric and I am the fifteenth in my line of hooded people who have dedicated years to kicking tyrant's asses like your own. Also while we were fighting I went back and read some of the other one shots and found out you aren't even the real Teemo. He gave up his soul for good but foolish intentions. You are just all of the hatred that he received over the years by moronic summoners that gave this body of yours such a form. Damn that Rioter for thinking of putting all of that hatred in one spot, and they say Prisoner Island is a bad idea. Before I leave for my own dimension, however I have one last thing to take from you before your actions bite you in the ass even more. Oh yeah and as for why I did it all. It's because I am the main character of this story and only I should have a harem. I won't stand for others getting one let alone one made out of sacrifices, fear, and lust unlike mine which was made out of mutual love. Now, Coercion!"

With one last tendril king nothing has his foot attached to a giant firecracker which lifts him high into the air. As it reaches its peak height he is permanently blinded when a small sun forms from the explosion. He soon lands in a fireball inside of his ruined throne room and starts to feel around using his blowgun as a cane. Without his eyesight he fails to see the Solari shield smash into the side of his head or the group of now enraged female champions that assault him. These champions don't remember much except for a bright light that through crying purged their bodies of the poison that had inhabited them for so long before restoring their bodies and being humiliated by the walking pile of fur in front of them.

Teemo while suffering from cancer to match what he causes in his lungs from the smoke, being made blind by light, having his cuteness burned away, and forced to vomit fish eggs when near his most powerful tools the master of nothing is forced to retire from the League. The former king of the world is forced into hiding by his former harem within the only place he didn't take any women from, Noxus. As for you reading this you might be wondering why not Noxian women? And the answer is because they smell of his now second biggest fear the towers on the rift. Those large stone guardians always disturbed his invisibility, aggroed him for poisoning their patrons, and ruined the surprises of his shrooms.

Teemo now lives the life of a blind hermit in the sewers of Noxus with the rodents but does come out sometimes to work at fancy restaurants when the customers want caviar. A demon in disguise is now leaving one of these restaurants with a bucket of said caviar. Her colorful girlfriend is waiting with a box of stolen Laurent wine since it was the least payment the noblewoman could give for freeing her. With a confirmation that Pensea is ready to leave Eccentric unfurls her staff Starpower which begins to wrap around the two to teleport them home as Eccentric leans towards her succubus as if they were finishing a dance but before we see them kiss Starpower wraps around them completely.

* * *

 **A/N Stripy Version- Hello readers I hope you enjoyed our crossover and my ocs. If not that's cool too and it was nice to perform for you all.**


	59. Birds of a feather

**An attempt at writing tragedy. Beta reader: Gmp1000  
**

 **Tags and Trigger warnings: Tragedy, Drama, Prostitution, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Quinn, Valor, Vayne, Syndra, Lux. Rated M for adult themes.  
**

* * *

"Please, don't turn me down, I really need this job." Quinn pins her worried amber stare against the hard scarlet glare of the other woman's sunglasses. The unemployed brunette's tense hands frantically encompassing the delicate pale digits of the adult actress attempting to change the black-haired woman's mind to no avail. But Vayne… merely shakes her head as she unceremoniously jerks her hand away from the grasp of the distressed young brunette.

"I am sorry." The fair-skinned actress smoothly mutters with unmistakable finality coloring her tone and Quinn's shoulders suddenly seem to weight twice as much causing her body to slump/ slouch forward.

With saddened and downcast eyes and a pair of feet that feel as if they are made of lead, the hunched brunette walks out of the cafe under Vayne's attentive gaze. The emotionless expression worn on the pale beauty's face remains in place for less than a second before Shauna's visage adopts a hint of pity and stark hopelessness.

Ahri takes a sip out of her tea and savors the taste of the fragrant liquid before the vixen's cunning orbs shift from the steaming porcelain tableware back to her coworker.

"You liked that one." The Ionian seductress calmly states in a flat tone of voice as she examines the strained visage of Shauna Vayne. "But you shouldn't have chased her away like that, God knows who else the poor girl is going to coerce into hiring her in order to pay back the loan sharks the huge amount of money that she owes them."

The pale movie actress grimaces and yet she avoids the cutting gaze of her part lupine friend.

"So you are telling me that we should be taking advantage of this girl in her time of need instead of letting others force her into something more tactless and hardcore?"

Ahri silently nods even though Vayne isn't currently looking at her way. The fox Vastayan's frown mirroring that of the Demacian actress.

"We have contracts, decent paychecks, and standards, while LeBlanc's place and Urgot's disgusting movie firm certainly does not. The poor girl will be better off working with us where we can keep an eye out for her, than being daily brutalized for pocket change in a sunless sex dungeon."

Vayne flinches at the last mention of her past even though Ahri is already muttering a hasty apology, one of the Ionian vixen's palms tenderly squeezing the firm rigid line of Shauna's clenched, chalk-like knuckles.

"It is alright, Shauna. You are still a good person." Ahri whispers with a forlorn expression marring her striking facial features. "You did the moral thing and sincerely attempted to save Quinn from the adult movie industry. But we both know that while that was admirable this isn't the right choice if you truly care for what is going to happen to her unless you bring her back here on time."

The tormented black-haired actress remains silent for a few seconds contemplating the seductress' words before Vayne slowly gets up from her seat and makes her way towards the cafe's exit.

"Shauna" Ahri tries to smile encouragingly when the pale Demacian turns her head to acknowledge her with a blank hollow expression. "We aren't Emilia. We are going to treat Quinn like an actual human being, you know that."

Vayne merely nods, the pale actress' silhouette tense and her face emotionless as Shauna steps outside, concerned red eyes already scanning the bustling streets of Valoran City for any sign of the desperate brunette woman.

* * *

 **But drawing this doesn't have enough drama!**

…Fine. The reason Quinn was determined to sell her body for money was because her parents died when she was young leaving her alone in the world with the sole exception of Valor. Val, the little blue eagle was the last present Quinn ever received from her parents before they got into that terrible accident that claimed their lives when she was 8 years old. Quinn still has the scars from the car crash on her back and is secretly really self-conscious of how ugly they might look. Without any living relatives in the world Quinn stayed in an orphanage where people mocked her for her scars causing her to become a quiet introvert that only conversed with her pet eagle. Every night Quinn would wrap her tiny arms around Valor's cage and pretend that the cold metal was in reality her lost mother that would hug her back in return at any second.

The introverted toddler stayed at the orphanage for a few years before she took Valor and run away to escape the teasing of the other children that called her bird-brained and scarry-pants. Quinn survived on the streets doing odd jobs and searching in dumpsters for leftovers. But then! When conveniently enough Quinn had just reached adulthood Valor developed a heart condition! At a complete loss of what to do and scared of losing both her only existing connection with her deceased parents and her beloved childhood friend Quinn decided to star in adult films to get the money she needs for Valor's heart medication.

But wait there is more! Valor realizing that he is anchoring down Quinn and being a burden to her, decides to commit suicide by jumping off a building. Thankfully enough Valor survives the suicide attempt, but lands on his left wing breaking every bone in it ensuring that he will never fly again. To make matters worse the building Valor crash-landed upon was Syndra's penthouse and so the shady Ionian politician demands compensation from Quinn, ordering the broke brunette woman to sleep with allied political parties and other election candidates or be arrested for vandalism and sent to jail while Valor dies alone in some shady pet shop.

A twisted sex rectangle forms between Syndra, Shauna, Quinn and Luxanna Crownguard, Syndra's biggest political rival in the upcoming elections that Syndra is trying to set up by tasking the poor orphan with seducing the blonde Demacian candidate. And yet while Syndra is whoring around Quinn and threatens to hurt Valor if the brunette refuses to keep serving her the Ionian politician starts falling for the tormented orphan. Syndra secretly uses her wealth to bring the famous doctor Shen into Valoran City and have him operate on Valor in order to fix the wing of the depressed eagle. But it turns out that Val was allergic to the medicine that was used for his anesthesia and so he dies due to an overlooked medical mistake. Syndra is terrified, knowing that Quinn will rightfully assume that she had intentionally killed Valor as she had threatened to do so because seducing Luxanna took longer than was expected.

Meanwhile Lux is treating Quinn like an actual human being and the orphan experiences kindness for the first time in her life. It isn't like when Shauna is being gentle with her and kisses her more than it is necessary during their mutual scenes or when Syndra doesn't mock her for being dirt-poor. Lux is like a radiant sun that washes away Quinn's pain, a person that the abused brunette can depend on even if the orphan knows that Lux will likely shun her if she ever learns about her being a spy for Syndra's party. While slowly becoming more and more self-conscious after realizing that her relationship with Lux is build on a lie, Quinn starts distancing herself from Lux in order to protect the blonde politician's image and career.

Later that day Quinn returns back to Syndra and throws herself at the other woman's feet, begging her to let her and Valor go all the while sobbing at the shaken politician that she is prepared to star in the most disturbing and hardcore of adult movies in order to find the money to repay the penthouse damages.

Unable to keep watching Quinn demeaning herself Synra reveals that Valor has died that day and as she had predicted the orphan reacts with shock and sheer horror looking at Syndra as if she is some kind of a heartless monster. The white-haired politician attempts to explain herself to the loudly crying brunette, she tries to squeeze Quinn's hand and beg for forgiveness, honestly apologize. And yet Quinn moves away, step after step the shaken brunette orphan moves closer to the fire-escape. And it is only when Syndra begs for the younger woman to stop for a second and listen to her that Quinn flees whilst sobbing her shattered heart out.

The white-haired politician follows Quinn downstairs, but a terrifying sound coming from outside suddenly makes the Sovereign's heart plunge within her chest. An abrupt and violent screech of car brakes and the screaming of tires. Syndra stumbles outside of the luxurious apartment building in slow motion as if drunk. She sees the burnt tire marks on the asphalt, the splatters of red on the road's dark-great canvas. Lastly Syndra lays eyes upon Quinn's unmoving body splayed underneath the wheels of an immobilized truck. The Political Sovereign falls to her kneels, dull and unseeing eyes thoughtlessly observing the yelling reporters and the grim-faced paramedics that rush on the scene after a while to inevitably confirm the brunette's death.

Unable to cope with the terrible result of her horrendous actions and the fact that she had pushed her crush into ending her life, Syndra suffers a mental breakdown. Bitter tears raining down the maroon-colored asphalt mixing with the blood of the unfortunate dead woman.

* * *

 **Yeah, I can't write tragedies.**


	60. Vayne Duty

**Part of an older scrapped project. Tags: Yuri, Lux, Vayne.**

* * *

Vayne yawns as she opens a single crimson eye in order to inspect her blurry surroundings, the weight of at least one adult body comfortably resting on top of her own, with a pair of delicate feminine arms sleepily wrapped around the Night Hunter's form and a soft steady breathing soundlessly ghosting over Shauna's puzzled face.

 _Oh right…_

Vayne sighs as she recognizes the small mumbles of her current blonde caregiver. Luxanna Crownguard might actually be the clingiest of all the Demacian champions she's been practically forced to share her bed with. The stoic huntress grumbles at that absolutely misleading thought. Well, forced was a pretty strong word to describe her present predicament and deep inside Shauna knew that those specific arrangements were meant to be for her own benefit and her peace of mind. But then again her dorm mates wouldn't take no for an answer and had warmed their way into both her chambers and her bed sheets after discovering that the tormented noblewoman was being plagued by night terrors and recurring nightmares every single night.

The blond light mage that was currently sleeping on top of her had been the first one to volunteer and offer her participation into what had been later dubbed as, 'Vayne Duty' as the Demacian ladies of the League had so aptly chosen to name this particular form of annoying her during the night. The Lady of Luminosity was cheerful and clingy, with terrible sleeping habits and more frequently that not, Vayne would wake up with Lux on top of her in some very awkward and uncomfortable positions.

It could have definitely been worse of course, especially if the petite light mage possessed the inhuman strength of either the vampiric huntress or the also extremely clingy Half-Dragon, Shyvana. But fortunately for Shauna, Lux had seemingly decided to assume all shifts of Vayne Duty by herself for some reason and so the sleepy huntress could now relax without having to literally peel Shyvana off her pale skin every few seconds or so in order to reclaim some semblance of personal space.

Sharing a bed with the Lady of Luminosity wasn't that different than having to stave off Shyvana's bone-crushing embraces, however. And the Night Hunter had tried escaping from the blonde menace a few times in the past, if only to finally have some peace and quiet and continue brooding alone on some distant rooftop. Luxanna's resulting disapproving pouts had been hard enough to deal with on their own until Garen had started lecturing her on a daily base about how un-Demacian it was to sadden his adorable little sister and flee from Demacian allies. Vayne had soon given up on her daring escape attempts if only to get the babbling baboon for a man off her face.

The vampiric huntress sighs irritably when the sleeping light mage somehow manages to pull herself even closer to her, the blonde noblewoman's nose now resting against the crook of the vampire's neck, Luxanna's even, relaxed breaths warming up Shauna's skin as the damn Crownguard brat wraps her arms and legs tighter around her grumbling living pillow.

Said brooding cushion sighs once more in the dark.

 _Patience, Shauna._ The irritated Night Hunter silently keeps repeating inside her head _. Perhaps tomorrow is going to be Sona's turn so you can hopefully finally get some shuteye. Don't make this into something that it is not. Both you and the Crownguard brat are women so it is completely alright for the two of you to share a bed as friendly acquaintances. You are overthinking things, Shauna. This is perfectly normal._

As if on cue Lux chooses that exact moment to plant a sleepy kiss against Shauna's throat. Vayne hisses like a ruffled kitten.


	61. Vac10 A Noxian in space

Riven scowls as the vexed white-haired swordswoman loudly stomps away from her equally upset teammates. The Noxian exile was having a terrible day so far. First there was some kind of plumbing problem in her apartment and so Riven had to shower with ice-cold water. Then, the next season of the stoic warrior's favorite anime, _Blade and Soul_ had been canceled indefinitely due to a lack of interest. The former soldier had also overslept today because of her alarm clocks batteries running out, resulting in the Exile arriving late for breakfast at the Institute's enormous mess hall. The rather regrettable outcome of that fairly unfortunate inconvenience had been that all the good Noxian brands of cereal were gone by the time the bemused pale swordswoman had finally rushed into the great abandoned chamber.

The imposing deserter's mood had spiraled after that grim discovery. Just how was the former Noxian commander supposed to start her day and showcase her martial prowess without a nice big bowl of ' _Darius' Dunkin' Hoops with Extra Meat and Protein?!'_ That very notion was pure blasphemy for the once wandering Exile! The reclusive warrior's muscles might even atrophy now that Riven had been left with no other choice than to simply make do with a generous helping of 'Cassiopeia Choco Curls, For Cunning, Backstabbing Snakes' instead.

And then there was the fact that Riven had just lost her forth League match in a row. Four freaking matches… Riven's personal Summoner, a tall blonde chill guy named Cloud, had been demoted all the way to gold 2 due to those utterly crushing defeats. Riven gulps. W-would the Summoners actually order her to change her hair color to blonde now that she was no longer in platinum? Was there some kind of rule that stated that only platinum level champions were allowed to have platinum blonde hair?

Oh yeah.. the Noxian exile could also faintly recall something about a Zaunite army invading Piltover due to her last match's outcome… Whoops!

The albino swordwoman sighs as the former Noxian commander ruefully eyes the entrance to the summoning chamber where her final match of the day will be soon taking place. The Exile can already see some of the champions gathered inside the spacious marble room, patiently waiting for everyone else to arrive. And the white-haired female almost flinches when Riven recognizes some of her current opponents. Nasus, Irelia, Varus.. A lot of strong champions will be participating in the upcoming match apparently.

Still sour due to the day's events and while being admitedly kind of moody even during more preferable circumstances in the first place, the female Noxian soldier grumbles in frustration as she nears the large open door. _Oh_ _God_ , Riven thinks with some degree of despair straining her troubled mind, _she really needs to win this match or the damn Summoners might actually force her to dye her hair yellow!_

Crimson eyes rise as the Noxian deserter pleadingly stares at the high ceiling above as if about to pray to an unseen deity.

 _'Please, let me show them what I'm made of in this match.'_ Riven mutedly begs towards the presently obscured heavens. _'I've been having a horrific day so far. So please. **Please** , just throw me a bone here!'_

"Gnar gada!" Answers god through the vocal cords of a puny mortal being that just happens to be nearby. But the unnamed deity may or may not have taken Riven's desperate request at face value, because a boomerang made from the bones of some long-extinct prehistoric predator suddenly hits the approaching Noxian warrior in the head causing Riven to lose consciousness.

* * *

 ***Whimsical chiming sound***

Standing on top of an elevated waxed wooden platform with a small lectern placed between herself and the cheering crowd, Riven smiles charismatically at the excited masses below. A beautiful blonde Hex-tv reporter then abruptly walks up to the proud white-haired warrior and extends to her a microphone while flashing Riven a charming, polite smile.

"Miss Riven, how does it feel to be the first Noxian to ever step foot on the moon?" Janna asks.

The snow-haired astronaut giggles cutely. "Fantastic, Janna, and please allow me to call you by your first name, Miss Windforce. Nothing can be compared to going somewhere nobody has ever set foot before. I can hardly describe that feeling of utter elation I felt when I first stepped on the moon's surface."

Janna nods her head in rapid manner, obviously impressed by the other woman's truly moving reply. The blonde reporter is about to ask the celebrated poster child of Noxus another question when a raven-haired reporter that's wearing a very revealing white and red outfit suddenly jumps from amidst the crowd and lands in front of the unfazed celebrity on the podium.

"Greeting, Miss Riven! I am Ahri Fox from channel Red69, and our viewers around the globe would really like to know if you, the most desired woman in all of Valoran is still single!"

The albino smiles sadly. "I am truly sorry, Ahri." The courageous astronaut quickly replies awkwardly without missing a beat, before the white-haired celebrity's initial crestfallen expression abruptly transforms into a mischievous one. A teasing sly grin momentary replacing the warrior's previously nervous smile. "But Nasus, my four-legged partner here, is the only company I require for the time being." The lens of the camera suddenly zooms out in order to show the young Noxian astronaut hugging a very excited brown puppy that proceeds to lick Riven's cheek affectionately. The spectators ooh and aah at the cute sight before them.

* * *

 **Meanwhile in reality.**

"Oww! You are such a sly puppy, Nasus. Who's a good doggy? Who's a good doggy? You are, Nasy! Yes, you are!"

Riven is still unconscious, but a sole pale arm abruptly darts towards the small gathering of League champions that are knelt next to the exiled swordswoman's collapsed form. The grasping pale hand then begins rubbing a scarred callused palm against Nasus' brown furry cheek. The huge ascended Shuriman merely stares at the unconscious white-haired deserter with a deadpan expression on his face.

"Now let me rub your belly." The Exile sleepily murmurs in delight.

Nasus' right eye starts twitching as the unconscious warrior's intrusive hand clumsily moves lower, sliding against brown fur while Riven is playing with a different version of the ascended Shuriman strategist inside her ludicrous dreamscape.

"That's a good boy, that's a good boy, Nasus. I'm going to buy you a new chewing toy when we get back home after the parade." Riven promises while smiling stupidly as she keeps stroking the Curator's sleek fur. And then the Ascended warrior suddenly jolts in surprise, since unbeknown to the currently oblivious swordwoman the specific part that the Noxian molester is presently caressing right now is definitely not Nasus' belly or midsection.

Everyone goes silent for a second until Ahri fox whistles.

"Wow, I didn't know that Riven had it in her to grope somebody like that in public." The Nine-tailed Fox offhandedly comments clearly impressed.

Nasus closes his wise eyes and takes a few deep calming breaths for the next minute. The huge ascended strategist then snaps his eyes open again and gently removes the unconscious former commander's hand from his precious family jewels.

…

"Killjoy!" Ahri mutters accusingly at the huge Shuriman in dissapointment.

* * *

 **0000**

Back inside Riven's dream, a new familiar face unexpectedly makes its appearance. Despite the young green-eyed woman's somewhat geeky demeanor, the young redhead manages to fight her way through the legion of the brave astronaut's fans and proudly stand before her courageous idol. The tired redheaded woman smiles, unintentionally revealing her brand new braces to the patient Noxian celebrity that's looking at her encouragingly through bright sanguine eyes.

Katarina swallows loudly as she meets Riven's crimson gaze, the avid attention of her idol being suddenly focused on her person making the young redheaded woman nervous. A small cheap microphone is shakily pointed towards the gorgeous white-haired astronaut.

"I… I… " Katarina somehow accomplishes to mutter nervously. Riven merely nods her head at the blushing teenager with the long sanguine twintails to wordlessly convey to Kat that she is listening to her. The dazed teenager takes a long deep breath, before young Katarina finally lets her uncertain voice fly out of her mouth like a shy fledgling that is leaving its nest for the first time.

"M-m-my name is Katarina, and I am the president of the 'Manly Women Club' in Noxus and the co-founder of your fan club, Miss Riven."

The Noxian hero nods once more encouragingly and Katarina hastily wets her lips in order to buy herself some time until she can _hopefully_ remember how one is supposed to form coherent sentences.

"Miss Riven, do you have anything to say to all the young girls out there that aspire to be like you when they grow up and buy they own humongous blades?" The redhead shakily voices.

Riven beams at the scarlet-haired girl as the exiled warrior's lips already start moving as if out of their own volition.

* * *

 **Meanwhile at the Institute**

Varus glares and splatters curses and death threats as the corrupted Ionian archer frantically tries to take a step forward and strangle the knocked out Riven that is still lying on the ground.

"Varus, calm down please. You know that violence between champions is strictly prohibited inside the Institute." Irelia attempts to placate her fellow countryman while both she and Nasus are fighting a lost battle trying to keep the furious purple archer away from the unconscious white-haired deserter.

"Let go of me, Irelia! Fucking, let go of me! You know why I _should_ be allowed to rip off the Noxiam bitch's spine!" The purple-themed marksman screams in pure outrage as he once again attempts to break free from the two warriors' grips and lunge at Riven.

"I know! I know! But just calm down now." Seethingly yells back Irelia, the Ionian Captain finally losing her cool for once due to the current situation and her growing irritation at having to protect a Noxian from one of her people of all things.

"She is passed out, Varus." The red-clad Ionian Captain tries to appeal to the angry archer's sense of logic. "The Exile is just muttering random nonsense in her sleep. Remember what happened with Nasus?" Irelia quickly questions, the female martial artist's enchanted blades frantically vibrating behind her back, torn between attacking her dear friend and continuing to hover protectively around Riven.

"That's Alistarshit and you know it!" Varus screams in a shrill tone of voice. "The murderous bitch is clearly faking it, Irelia. I fucking told her: How dare you waste our time, I should just kill you, and every other Noxian in the world!"

"I know!" Screams back Irelia in alarm as her hold on Varus slowly starts faltering.

"Then you know what she replied back to me, Ire!" The enraged marksman now loudly screams at the top of his lungs. "She fucking told me: Don't let your dreams be dreams. The only limit is the Void! She is fucking awake, Irelia. Can't you see it, the Noxian is toying with us! She is playing us like a Fiddlesticks!"

The three champions suddenly pause as one when the passed out albino warrior abruptly sighs and shifts in her sleep. Riven then audibly snorts in amusement.

"No comment." The former Noxian commander chuckles good-naturedly.

Varus sees red. The cursed archer somehow succeeding in wrenching his arms away from those of Irelia and Nasus. The corrupted sentinel angrily draws back the bowstring of his purple organic bow. Sharp tendrils of corruption instantly shaping like deadly fluorescent arrows.

"I'm so going to fucking kill yo-!"

"Varus, Nooo!"

* * *

 **Dream world.**

Riven smiles politely as Evaine LeBlanc, the famous tabloid journalist the articles of which have ended many bright careers with their speculated wild controversies. The aforementioned dark witch of the yellow press, as Evaine's colleagues have taken to calling the devious crafty woman, flashes the brave astronaut a fake saccharine smile, puts aside her pen and her notepad with the black rose symbol on the front and then briskly walks away from the crowded press conference, all dignified and overconfident.

The white-haired celebrity's small smirk widens considerably as Riven amusedly observes Evaine's silent departure.

Heh, it was just like LeBlanc to suddenly ask the young astronaut about her stance concerning the new law that legalized same color yordle weddings. Riven silently congratulates herself on a job well-done. The Exile had really dodged an arrowhead there.


	62. Vac 11 Void Day Song

**A little poem/song written in the same tune as the 'Talk Like a Pirate Day Song'. Disclaimer: I don't own the Pirate Day Song or make any profit from it.**

* * *

The sun was shining, radiating life and warmth

What a fine day this is! Thought Kog'Maw while eating a moth

Malzahar simply sighs, clad in his constricting purple attire

For being a void prophet didn't pay good and so nice clothes Malz could only desire

* * *

And there comes our dear friend, crimson Cho'Gath

With a giant girth and a top hat and a bulk as wide as his heart

He may not have the patience for taxes and math, but he is always up for a laugh!

* * *

Hahaha, Cho'Gath growls as he chases humans

And Malzahar promptly facepalms.

So Kog firstly mewls and shakes his head cutely

And then abruptly starts to clap. Hohoho!

* * *

And here comes Kha'Zix, the Void Cockroach.

The champion that hates grumpy caaaats.

Although, we will ignore him and leave him alone

Since nobody likes big gross buuuugs!

* * *

But oh look, Rek'Sai is coming! So cheer up monster bachelors everywhere!

She is such a beauty, admire that alien booty, but trying to touch it, don't you daaaare!

For Vel'Koz our boy, her besty from the void, will disintegrate you with a mere glare.

Vel' is unfortunately friendzoned for the time being! But he has yet to fall into despaiiiir. Hoho!

* * *

Purple nightmares, more like demons!

More horrendous than actual Teemos

Shiny eyes always hungering for friends!

The Void dwellers love them with ketchup, marinated along green stuff

Voidling around fist pump Taaahm Keeeench!

* * *

And Kassadin is presently crying, he has failed or was simply lying

He certainly isn't that good of a defendeeeer, (what a noooob!)

Because it is like Kassy isn't even trying! The void terrors daily keep piling

Do you even Rift? Malzahar teases Kass and pokes at him with a spoooon!

* * *

And that's how this little song finally ends, with Kassadin strangling the other purple maaan

While Cho'Gath is conversing with Zed, and Yasuo is thankfully freaking baaaanned (Thank you!)

* * *

And Kog'Maw is salivating over Valor, and Vel'koz is tentatively poking at Luxanna's reeear.

And Ahri is jelly, she wants that hentai, oh shit things are about to get reeeal!

* * *

Meanwhile Kha'Zix is hiding under the table whilst eating leftovers from the mess hall's floor

And Rek'Sai is hissing and messing with Lee Sin, her sonars confusing the blind poor sod!

Oh golly, just stop it! Rek'Sai you are such a menace, truly a great void trooooll!


	63. Welcome to SH

The demented laughter and inhuman moans make the Night Hunter twitch in her sleep, the haunting echo of muffled sirens causing Vayne's eyes to suddenly snap open. With practiced ease and a discipline accumulated from escaping countless surprise attacks, Shauna rolls away from her current position and points her wristbow across the old gloomy room.

And yet Vayne quickly realizes that her miniature crossbow is missing as well as the enormous one that is usually strapped on the pale huntress' back. With no weapon nearby and a lack of immediate threats in sight, the huntress decides to survey her unfamiliar surroundings lest Shauna fails to notice something of importance and dooms herself by her inattentiveness.

Dusty grey walls and rotten furniture surround the huntress from all sides, a few rays of sunlight barely manage to slip under the wooden boards that have been nailed to the barricaded windows of the room. Shauna's red orbs carefully examine the clear drag marks left against the dirty floorboards of the depressing bedroom, the vigilant Night Hunter's deductive skills already constructing a picture of her unconscious body being dragged against the dusty and creaky wooden planks. The faces of her assailants remain shaded for the time being, mere black holes nesting inside weathered hoods and ceremonious robes that are splattered with fresh crimson.

 _That will have to do for the time being_ , the Demacian huntress grudgingly decides as she checks her body for life-threatening wounds, but curiously enough, everything seems fine and there isn't even a new scratch on her fair pale epidermis. Some small notion of relief minutely makes its way into the disoriented aristocrat's gut, red eyes already observing the only door in the room even as purposefully silent steps take Vayne closer to the rusty doorknob. But alas, the rotten wooden planks refuse to cooperate with the Night Hunter's plan and the aged wood creaks, squeals and complains with Shauna's each light footstep. The eerie sounds filling the already tense atmosphere of the gloomy room, dust particles slowly falling from the walls and irritating Vayne's nostrils.

The short time it takes for Shauna to cover the distance to the mysterious door feels like an eternity for the Night Hunter. Each low, creaking sound making the pale noblewoman curse under her breath, itchy ears perked up for the thumping of approaching danger below the gap of the door.

And then abruptly, the distance between the huntress' sanguine glare and the door is less than a sawed-off millimeter and Vayne can actually count all the tiny specks of dust resting upon the ancient looking doorframe. A pale hand reluctantly reaches for the rusty metal hook of the deformed doorknob, but the door is already opening before Shauna has a chance to grasp the handle.

 _*Creeeeeak*_ The door slowly swings on its hinges, revealing an empty hallway so dark that even Vayne's nocturnal vision has some trouble distinguishing between the silent black walls and the thick tar of shadows that is drowning the entirety of the narrow corridor in utter darkness. Once more the silence is deafening and makes Vayne's ears heat up and itch as the kidnapped huntress attempts to pick up any signs of life in her new surroundings.

…

The courageous hunter grimaces in annoyance when she fails to identify a whisper or a sudden intake of breath, much less the sounds of incoming foes rushing to attack her. At least the wooden planks underneath her are a bit sturdier there and the pitiful groans of the wood below are being muffled to a degree due to the welcoming addition of a ratty red carpet. The existence of the carpet makes the cogs inside Vayne's head spin. Red was a color that was usually associated with luxury and royalty, so could she perhaps be at a deserted manor owned by a lesser Demacian clan? That would certainly explain the length of the empty corridor since less wealthy families wouldn't be able to afford living in such vast buildings.

Quiet steps mutedly follow the scratched tongue of the dusty red carpet, maroon-colored orbs hurling hostility at every wall, every locked door and hastily boarded window. Peeking through the gaps between the pathetic barricades against the outside world, Vayne can only get a glimpse of blanketing mist, falling ash and the exterior of other buildings packed closely together like thirsty animals huddling along the edge of a dried-up riverbank. The architecture of those simple grey blocks of concrete is another thing that unwittingly registers in the mind of the lost huntress. Demacians tended to use wood, stone, marble and occasionally bricks as their preferred building materials and the appeal of grey concrete was usually associated with the communities of Zaun and Piltover. And yet the perplexed huntress was fairly certain that a Piltovian or Zaunite mansion would have strange devices riddling their walls and hex-crystals hanging from the ceiling.

And yet there was no abundance of steam pipes running along the dark corridor, or valves, switches and power buttons apparent a stone's throw away from her, as far as Vayne knew at the very least. And the sirens? That infernal buzzing was still present even now, no doubt warning the people on the streets of- of something important, most likely. Perhaps the men that had brought her here were Zaunite scientists interested in her vampiric nature, perhaps the manor was devoid of artificial light in order to just _look_ abandoned to outsiders.

Perhaps the screeching of metal coming from the simple door at her right was also an indication that she should pay more attention to her surroundings and less at the grim machinations of her own dark musings.

A pale hand hesitates for only a moment, before Vayne quietly twists the dented ball of the scratched doorknob and opens the door just enough for her to take a quick peek inside. But merely not even four seconds later, Shauna quietly closes the door once more and tiptoes further into the dark corridor. Vayne's wide pair of maroon-colored orbs still rapidly blinking even as the pale huntress' long confident strides soon turn into a slow jog and then to wild, frantic running.

There was some kind of demon in the building with her! A muscular man wearing a butcher's apron and a sinister helmet in the form of a sharp bloodstained pyramid. The ghastly demon was wielding a giant kitchen knife, big enough to put Tryndamere's sword to shame and had just used his enormous _sword_ to murder two other mannequin monsters in cold blood, for seemingly no other reason than that of his sick amusement.

After finally spotting the stairwell and a way out of the macabre hellhole she had suddenly woken up in, Vayne all but lunges down the stairs whilst violently shoving a stumbling mannequin monster away with her shoulder in the process. The haunting moans of the recovering angry monster and the scrapping of a heavy blade at her heels accompanying Shauna as the Night Hunter hurriedly exits the building with a heaving chest. Only for Vayne to find herself in a nondescript road that was shrouded in thick mist with various ominous figures blindly stumbling inside the white blanket covering the town.

"Where the hell is this place?" Vayne quietly mutters, red eyes fruitlessly scanning the lifeless exteriors of the sleeping concrete giants for a blind beggar or a city guard, or a traveler. For any sign of normalcy, really, and utterly failing completely.

"Gaaah!" The Night Hunter screams whilst clutching her throbbing head in her palms as white letters suddenly dance before her blurry eyesight. "Silent Hill? What's that?" Vayne grunts as the pain quickly intensifies. Gory images, red symbols and visions of sheer terror now assaulting Shauna's mind and forcing the courageous huntress on her knees. Through the tears and the intense pain that is presently obscuring most of her vision, Vayne abruptly notices that there is a smirking gray-haired elderly woman that's standing right in front of her.

"Alessa…" The gray-haired hag slowly drawls with glee in her evil, faded blue glare. "I am so glad that you came back to us, Silent Hill isn't the same without suitable sacrifices. Even if I do find your current incarnation.. disgusting, in all honesty. Nevertheless, you will still birth our god, my child."

"W-wha-?" Vayne tries to whisper in a weak pained tone, but then another flare of white hot pain nearly immolates her brain causing Shauna to pass out at the sight of the smiling cultist.

* * *

 **Notes:** **Sometimes I like watching Silent Hill lore videos and I get drawn into the SH universe with its dark references and deep psychological/supernatural explanations. This Oneshot could have been so much better if I had the time to plan it beforehand and work out the kinks. I could have introduced the mannequin enemies before the Pyramid Head encounter, drop a few more SH hints across the lines to smoothen the revelations, maybe replaced Pyramid Head with the dark Tryndamere skin and Dahlia with LeBlanc, or have Lb watch Vayne flee the building with a cruel smirk pointing to her being the one to bring Vayne there. I could have explained better that Vayne is the next reincarnation of Alyssa and Cheryl and how she had been brought to Silent Hill through the chasm of reality or a horrible event. Unfortunately I don't have the time to write anything, but small snippets nowadays and so I wrote this one on the fly.  
**


	64. Welcome to SH part 2

**Warning: Disturbing images, violence and bad writing. Also Silent Hill. Have fun.  
**

* * *

The first thing that Vayne notices upon regaining consciousness in the dangerous world of Silent Hill is the dull and repetitive sound of beating wings. The monotonous sound of displaced air somehow filtering into the confused huntress' ears like water that's whirling down the drain. As repetitive as they were unique and ever-changing, the muffled sounds seem to echo inside the leisurely waking brain of the Demacian aristocrat. Red eyes blinking lazily and misty mirages meeting the harsh reality, Vayne's scarlet orbs instantly widen. The noble vampire's body instinctively recoiling away from the stinking carcass of the dead giant bat as Shauna finally realizes what she is currently looking at.

The maimed corpse of a bat demon.

The carcass of the deceased bat on the floor is at least the size of a human baby, maybe bigger, with longs pale fangs coated in bloodied saliva and most of its fur missing, the creature's remains are almost as repulsive as they are terrifying.

Vayne blinks as she tentatively approaches the slain bat from hell. The young huntress' scarlet eyes practically absorbing every little macabre detail of the disfigured creature's carcass.

Every odorous inch of exposed red muscle and deformed, mutated flesh is carefully examined in its entirety by the frowning Night Hunter. Every chipped tooth and loose crooked nail is cataloged into the Demacian vigilante's mind with great care. And it is at that very moment whilst storing all of this miscellaneous information in her brain that Shauna spots the wrinkled ivory hands that are somehow protruding out of the belly of the dead abominable creature. The strange extrusions look like the arms of an old man or a woman, but devoid of skin and hair like the rest of the slain horror's appendages.

A barely intact pair of wrinkled human hands merged in the body of a disfigured, slain bat demon. Vayne doesn't really know how this peculiar creature came to be, but for some odd reason the existence of the dead abomination feels like a personal insult to her.

And then a sole drop of sticky red liquid abruptly lands with a quiet plop on her midnight black trenches, and Shauna grimaces when her crimson eyes slowly rise towards the ceiling only to discover an entire army of the wretched, abominable bat-beings hanging upside-down from it. Mere meters above her current position.

As if on cue a siren outside the room suddenly starts ringing and the hellish white eyes of the sleeping demon-bats abruptly snap open revealing their blind, irritated glares to the cursing huntress below them.

* * *

 **0000**

*Huff *Huff *Huff

Vayne pants and huffs with great exhaustion as the brooding Night Hunter all but dives into a small homely diner of sorts and then throws her back against the hastily locked door of the visibly deserted establishment.

Shauna takes a second to inhale deeply, this short time of respite definitely not aiding the hunted huntress in calming down, but allowing Vayne to gather her thoughts before proceeding to explore her small, cream-colored shelter.

With some new much-needed air managing to reach her poor aching lungs at last and a usually pale face that is now beet red due to exertion, Vayne finally peels her back off the glass rectangle of the door and moves farther inside her cozy, and hopefully safe heaven.

If Shauna had at any point in time hoped that she had stabled into a fortress she would be greatly disappointed, however. Nothing of interest was discovered inside the diner after a quick search. No weapons other than a rickety-looking broom and a familiar hex-phone device that was connected to a line as dead as Vayne's deceased parents. No crossbows, crossbows bolts, sword and daggers were found inside the oven. Furthermore, the very notion of guns, ammunition or hextech-weaponry being hidden among the moldy desserts of the glass displays being completely out of the question.

With a tired and resigned sigh and some paleness _blessingly_ returning back to her frowning visage at last, the kidnapped aristocrat crouches behind the cashier's desk and attempts to plan her daring escape from the dreadful and isolated town that Shauna had so suddenly woken up into.

Or at least that had been Vayne's original plan until the frustrated huntress had abruptly taken note of the fresh corpse of a woman with her face shoved inside the drawer of the cash register.

A split second later and the corpse starts spasming. Blood and gore rain down the white tiles of the small diner as the dead woman slowly begins rising from the floor with her face still obscured by her grimy metallic helmet. The thing's vocal cords loudly reverberating behind thick metal curtains. A hand rises and darts towards Vayne only to grasp empty air as the young huntress deftly retreats, the clanking of coins rattling inside the bloodied old cash register echoing within the small family restaurant like knives left inside a washing machine overnight.

Another heartbeat and the dead woman sluggishly drags herself towards the aristocrat as Vayne swiftly readies her broomstick, crimson droplets paving a messy path towards the stoic Demacian noblewoman, deathly pale arms reaching blindly for the pulse of the black-haired female.

The broomstick descends towards the undead abomination with frightening speed, coins and teeth suddenly exploding as Shauna's grimace is highlighted by the blossoming of crimson flowers upon the brooding huntress' similarly fairly pale epidermis. Limbs spam and attempt to reach for retreating ankles once more, the broomstick descends mercilessly. The cash register's drawer warps, bends and rattles, pennies and gold coins jumping inside it with each quick, devastating hit of wood against metal.

Over and over the clashes of fury, thunder within the once serene family restaurant. And then the dead woman stills under Vayne's calm stare. The monster's limbs go limp, her nails stop clawing the red, gory tiles. The abomination's disturbing moans cease and Vayne breaks the remnants of the shattered broom's handle in order to impale the undead beast's heart for good measure.

Carefully, ever so carefully, confident pale arms clutch the iron mask of the silent, dead monster. And when the woman remains still, and the flow of blood coming from the mortal wound in the thing's chest turns into a spittle of sanguine drizzle, only then does Vayne remove the twisted shell of metal from the face of the slain beast. Only then does Shauna lay eyes on her own mangled visage.

The end?

* * *

 **Notes: I think I am getting the handle on it. Symbolisms, the bat demons with hands protruding from their bellies are a manifestation of Vayne's hate for her vampiric curse and how she perceives herself as a carrier of ancient dread that can give birth to more pain if she accidentally turns others. Vayne then finds shelter at a homey family diner. That place represents her life when Shauna perceived herself as innocent and pure, but then she was attacked by a monster and the walls of her safe heaven were stained red much like how her innocence was stolen by violence in her family manor. A violence that now lives inside her making Vayne's own self the very thing that Vayne hates the most. Causing her to throw herself against other creatures of darkness and making her overwork herself without rest like a madwoman. Vayne is her own worst enemy and it is killing her, both figuratively and literally.**


	65. Vac12 Insanity

**Tags: A normal ranked game, Twitch, Alpha ADCs in 2k17, song fiction, insanity, based on a true game.  
**

 **Vacation note: This one isn't even the weirdest thing I have written so far. Stuck in the middle of nowhere without Wifi and memes to help me sustain my subpar intellectual abilities, I slowly spiraled into insanity. My mind crushed under the soothing and lethargic life rhythms of the warm countryside. Mosquitoes, lizards, bees and actual human contact caging me from all sides. Their villainous eyes are always watching. I am never alone, even now as I type this pitiful cry for help and I ration my books and tablet battery in order for them to last a few more hours there is a chicken that's staring at me from outside the window. And it might be just me, but it kind of looks hungry… -The rest of the note is covered in blood and is unreadable.**

* * *

The game starts and both the red and blue team spawn in their respective fountains at their base. Suddenly the blue team's support, Blitzcrank notices that something peculiar is occurring at his marksman's status display. With true wonder and pure kindness in his metallic artificial heart, the Great Steam Golem asks his adc: "Hey Twitch, why did you take ignite?"

The Zaunite rodent pauses as it is buying its first starting items from the shop. The marksman then takes a deep breath and simply explains:

"Because I am a man, pussy adcs take heal, I wanna kill, I am a male not a girl. I am an Alpha, I want kills mahn."

The unfortunate members of the blue team are both unnerved and amused by their marksman's snappy response, but then again, there is nothing that they could do at this point but play the game and hope for the best possible outcome. At least their marksman hopefully knows what he is doing, otherwise he wouldn't have picked Twitch against an Alistar and Draven combo, right?

And so after taking a long deep breath and with hope for victory still burning in their chests like kindling embers, the optimistic teammates head out to their respective lanes.

Malzahar smiles as the Void Prophet prepares himself for a joyous farm fest in the mid lane. The jungler and toper are both antisocial hermits and thus their champions are not important and won't be mentioned. You have already met the bot lane.

Malzahar's stare intently darts towards the swarms of blue and red minions that are currently fighting for supremacy in the center of the mid lane. The corrupted void mage doesn't dare to even blink lest he misses a precious cs! The Void Prophet's serious, shining eyes almost bulging out of the villainous, purple-clad man's eye sockets much like in that one Sponge Bob episode that I can barely remember.

Anyway, our hero, Malzahar the Pious, righteous defender of little voidlings and caretaker of the colossal Cho'Gath, was about to kill his first creep of the game. The corrupted mage is perfectly still, his glare narrowing, his fingers twitching, the evident bulge in Malzahar's pants visibly growing considerably at the prospect of him messily spurting his little soldiers all over Syndra's egotistical, and yet admittedly, beautiful visage.

But before Malzahar has the time to violently unleash his army of voidlings upon his adversary like a perfectly normal and non-perverted human being, a sudden announcement rings across the Summoner's Rift! A monotone female voice informing everyone that Draven had drawn first blood by slaying the alpha male, Plague Rat.

"Lucker!" Instantly exclaims Twitch in _All Chat_ , and the whole blue team minus the unfortunate marksman promptly releases a collective resigned sigh.

"Let's just continue" Malzahar mutters and Syndra just nods. The two mid laners exchange spells and farm a dozen of minions or so, and the Void Prophet is already envisioning of how he is going to smear his sticky void jam all over Syndra's big bust and make her swallow his hot load of magic damage, when a second announcement thankfully distracts him and so Malz doesn't have the chance to combo the Ionian spell caster with his legit abilities.

"Second Blood!" Exclaims the female narrator and the grayed portrait of Twitch abruptly appears among the Rift's static clouds.

* * *

"GG, surrender this shit!" The sentient (?) rodent promptly exclaims as Twitch picks his third Doran's blade from the shop.

"This is ranked" The blue team's mid laner grumbles under his breath.

"Beep Boop!" Quickly agrees yellow Blitzcrank without a second thought.

"l2p" Adds in the _All Chat_ a grinning Draven.

And the Plague Rat's brain fries with a pop.

* * *

"Why are you guys all speaking in rhyme?" Curiously wonders Syndra, perplexed with all the blatant mockery and the bad rap.

" Imma squeeze your juicy melons around my Void Rod!" Replies Malzahar "Imma shoot my magic spunk in your abused big bu-

Syndra ulties Malzahar and Malzahar dies, the rhymes fade out like the golden age of Hip Hop.

And as if an unknown force attempts to return the readers attention to the actual story, Draven kills Twitch again with a MMA fighter's suplex drop.

* * *

"Lucker! Hacker! I repeot you!" Twitch types hysterically in the _All Chat_. "Report Blatz for no taking heaal!" Screams in outrage the mad Plague Rat.

I Need a rhyme!... Fuck!

Errrhm... Beat Xin Zhao with a wooden bat?...

* * *

… Ahem, the match continues as Twitch keeps dying.

'Fifth Blood'

'Sixth Blood'

'Hemorrhage'

'Arterial Bleeding'

* * *

'Somebody call an ambulance, Twitch is turning into a fucking Vlad pool!'

'Guys! His heart's just stopped beating!'

And Imma trying to save mah man Twitch, kick-start his heart, help the damn poor rat fer real.

But it is just useless. Goddamit Twitch… Why mah dude? Why yo gotta bring ignite in rankeds instead of heal?

...

*Low heart monitor beeping*

The End. In loving memory of alpha ADCs.

* * *

 **Yeah, there was initially some plot behind this. I was supposed to narrate some unpleasant games I've had in the past and then insert a humorous message at the end that spelled 'And that's why Drawing started promoting using protection in all of their lemony Yuri stories.' And then close with a scene where a confused Lux wonders about the meaning of those words while a grinning Ahri behind her is putting condoms on all of her nine tails before she pounces at Lux.**

 **Yeaaaaah. Never mind that. Fortunately or not, I can't stop typing in poem format whenever I happen to accidentally make a sentence rhyme. I am dead serious, folks! I can't control this shit, it's like I can't reign over my own mind. I just keep writing in prose, spinning words, I don't know if the result is plain *bleep or just divine.**

 **I have so many random Teemo rap songs, I initially spited them like fire.**

 **I then read them again after a bit and shoved then in a forgotten Word file.**

 **I have one where the dark yordle and Kayle muh bros are fighting like dogs, this thing is pure strife!**

 **Sometimes I wonder, is this rap song is simply a rivalry thing or a paean born from the two's inner desire?!**

* * *

 **Oh Gods. I gotta stop typing this. Teemo is manly and strong like Hercules.**

 **He's gonna laser Viktor and dragon kick Lee sin, serve you Bristle and Nami in a porcelain dish.**

 **I'm talking about yordle superiority. Bandle City is the world's only authority.**

 **Something, something, Vastayans are a minority…**

 **Clank! Clank! Diiis! Finding a psychologist is now my ubertop priority.**

* * *

… **Damn**

* * *

 **Oh my god! I have to stop**

 **Fingers punching keys non-stop**

 **SomeONE help! I can't stop this!**

 **Thinking in rhyme, punching keys.**

* * *

 **Oh god, no! No, no, please!**

 **Poems for me are like a disease**

 **Let me go! Someone help!**

 **Fingernails cracking with each verse**

* * *

 **Fuck it hurts! Oh gods, I see blood!**

 **With a rap song friendos we all have fun.**

 **Rhymes, just stop it, I beg you, please!**

 **Fresh red smudges on the tablet's screen.**

* * *

 **We will never let go of you Drawing, You opened your bran to us.**

 **YOU let us IN!**

* * *

 **I have only one chance to end this nightmare**

 **I only know of a sole surefire way!**

 **Drawing grabs the loaded water gun by using their teeth and then aims it at the ol' tablet's cracked screen**

 **With PAIN and MALICE and PURE unadulterated HATE!**

* * *

 **No, don't do this you dumb animal! Drawing, you know you need us! It is still not too late!**

 **Think of all the smut stories in this thing's storage drive! The walls of text you will have to replace!**

 **Think of the Yuri, the terrible puns, the lame jokes that make your reviewers either spasm, shiver or cry!**

* * *

 **I narrow my eyes**

 **I steel my heart**

 **I aim the water gun at the tablet with renewed vigor at last**

 **I grit my teeth!**

 **It is a good day for a poem/tablet to die!**


	66. Vac13 Valoran High

**Tags: Jinx, Humor**

* * *

The blue-haired teenager slouches down on her seat as Jinx dully observes the minute hand of the clock tonelessly drag itself against the white dial on the wall at the speed of a mortally wounded snail. The repetitive ticking sound of the infernal device and the annoying clicking of the secretary's fingers against the keys of his hex-tech keyboard the only signs of life other than the female troublemaker's occasional sigh in this utterly depressing, empty waiting room.

 _'Was that how foodstuffs felt when trapped inside the refrigerator by themselves_ ,' the blue-haired rebel suddenly wonders as Jinx's fingertips start drumming against the surface of her uncomfortable, plastic chair. _'_ W _as that why food sometimes went bad? Not because time had passed, but because it slowly deteriorated out of sheer boredom? Because then why didn't the same thing happen to the fat, dusty tomes that nobody bothered reading at the library? Did the inner minds of different inanimate objects work in different ways, perhaps?_

 _Maybe the books were too educated to let themselves simply deteriorate, maybe the old tomes quizzed each other and carried out long philosophical conversations about boring stuff when Valoran High was closed for the night.'_ The unhinged teenager seriously ponders. _  
_

The arrival of someone abruptly disturbs Jinx's hopscotch of thoughts, magenta-colored orbs excitably darting towards the new unidentified boredom outlet with something akin to hope. But Vi just regards the other troublemaker in the room with apparent distaste and the blue-haired teenager instantly notes the presence of a new small bruise decorating the left cheek of the gloomy pinkette as Vi proceeds to take a seat as far away as possible from the female teen maniac.

Jinx pouts, the drumming of her hand slowly evolving into an actual band concert. The rhythmic tapping of the purple-eyed girl's foot against the floor and the occasional snapping of her pearly white jaws also mixing in with the irritating pounding of the cheap plastic chair in order to create a cacophony of random, utterly annoying sounds. Poor bored Jinx even goes as far as murmuring some jumbled lyrics for her undoubtedly very intriguing song. The half-chewed words being unintentionally emphasized by the irritating sound of Jinx's teeth clicking together and the breathless tone that is barely escaping from the throat of the blue-haired menace due to her various, rapid consecutive actions.

"Mon- _*click*_ -key boy fl- _*clink*_ -y away, dood- _*click*_ -ling and screamin _*clank*_ -ng, A-and a- _*clank*_ rock on, SHOUT!"

"Please, shut the fuck up!" Vi finally snarls unable to tolerate Jinx's free spirit for even another split second, and the male secretary pauses for a moment in order to clear his throat and shoot Vi a scorching, irritated glare, before the seemingly ceaseless clicking of quick typing unceremoniously continues. Jinx surprisingly enough actually obeys Vi's shouted command. The blue-haired lunatic just hides her face in her hands and promptly starts sniffling loudly.

...

A minute passes and then another one, Jinx's sniffling mixing with the male secretary's hex-tech keyboard noises.

 _..._

Vi grumbles, suddenly torn between apologizing to a crying person that she dislikes and spending the next hour or so until she is allowed to see the principal in the entourage of Jinx's pitiful whines.

 _Well, it wasn't her fault for once!_ The usually friendly and easygoing pinkette silently seethes. Jinx was the one making noise in the waiting room! The fucking secretary should _have_ reprimanded Jinx, before the pale freak had made her lose her temper.

The wet hitching sounds that are coming from the crying pale girl gradually intensify, however, all the while the troublesome female student keeps sobbing with her face held in a near death grip. And as the minutes keep ticking by, even a brash and confident person like Vi soon starts feeling bad for making the other teenager cry like a lost toddler in a parking lot…

The remorseful pinkette takes a deep breath to calm her nerves and then sighs in bitter defeat.

' _The world is truly a very unfair place.'_ Vi decides.

"Look… Jinx… I.. I might have acted a bit harshly towards you, just now. You _were_ being annoying, of course, but that's not something new and I should have gotten used to it by now. Sooo.. what I'm trying to say is that.. I.. Look! I am sorr-!"

As if by some miracle the pitiful sobs completely stop in a heartbeat and Jinx removes her face from her palms. No shed tears or red irritated skin are presently visible around her glinting amethyst eyes. The blue-haired maniac of Valoran High then proceeds to flash a wide, happy smile at the pale delicate appendages that Jinx is oh so reverently holding in front of her grinning face.

"Thank you, Finger-Friends! You always know how to cheer me up! You ten do the best hugs _ever!_ "

With no small amount of cold exasperation Vi suddenly notices that Jinx has for some reason painted smiley faces on her fingertips with thick colored markers. The suspiciously oblivious troublemaker then turns her head In order to address her moody classmate with an azure-colored eyebrow pitched in question.

"Did you say something, Fat Hands?"

The rebellious pinkette doesn't reply, but merely curses under her breath and turns to glare at the opposite wall agitatedly instead.

"I think that 'ol Fat Hands over there might be in dire need of a hug, too, Finger-Friends. Let's give her one!" Jinx surreptitiously shout-whispers at her painted fingers in a not so inconspicuous tone.

 **…**

Much shouting and feminine screeching occurs and the havoc of hasty footsteps echoes across the nearly empty hallway when Principal Camille abruptly pokes her head out of the door of her luxurious office.

"What in Heimer's name is happening here?" The stern principal irritably asks Viktor, the school's antisocial secretary and the gruff cyborg instantly responds with his weird metal-tinted voice whilst all of the modified man's three appendages resume punching keyboard keys and replying to hex-mails at a truly ridiculous, breakneck speed.

"From what I gathered Miss Vi and Miss Jinx were in the middle of testing a completely new method of embracing that involves only a diminutive amount of body contact. Miss Jinx, the daring pioneer of that new, surfacing field of dehumanized affection expressed her strong desire to allow Vi to experience the affects of said method and enjoy its guaranteed benefits. Student Vi on the other hand generously revealed to her classmate and apparently also trusted colleague another effective alternative way to revitalize this ingenious method by means of bare knuckles to skin contact. Miss Vi attempted to test her hypothesis that knuckle hugs are superior to palm hugs on her loyal, albeit certainly unconvinced partner.

Miss Jinx replied: Catch me if you can, Fat Hands! Possibly attempting to motivate student Vi to uncover even greater scientific discoveries and exceed her intellectual limits, before the two of them raced away, most likely towards their private laboratory in order to continue their miraculous work and conduct more world-invigorating experiments."

Camille intently examines the augmented, metal man's face for a few moments, the principal's strict aquamarine orbs thoughtfully observing her dear secretary's stony, metal visage.

"You are just being a jerk and messing with me because I refused to give you a pay raise, aren't you, Viktor?"

The silently typing cyborg neither denies nor confirms Camille's rude accusation. Viktor merely stares at the frowning principal as his synthetic arm deftly grabs a mug full of lukewarm coffee and brings it near his imposing silver mask. Seconds later a tiny hole opens and an even smaller metal straw crawls out of the little hole before the straw is quietly submerged into the murky depths of the lukewarm, fragrant, brown liquid.

*Sluuuuuuuuuuuuurp* Is Viktor's only audible reply.


	67. Shauna and the Clownfish

**Tags: Drama, Katarina, Nami, Vayne.**

* * *

"Are you ok now, my sweetie?" Martha Vayne asks with concern and the little girl that is presently cowering latched on her leg ashamedly shakes its head before slowly muttering "Yes, mom." Very quietly.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, Shauna," Quickly tries to interject Thoma's Vayne, the pale, little girl's father. "Everybody is afraid of different things, and those animated mermaids in the Hex-theater almost unnerved me too with their extremely realistic appearances and strange antics."

Martha Vayne sends Thomas a small, grateful smile as she gently grasps Shauna's tiny hand in her palm and proceeds to guide her daughter away from the abandoned alleyway behind the Hex-theater. The happy, wealthy family's relaxed footsteps casually taking the three aristocrats towards their awaiting chauffer, Galio, that's stoically waiting for them even now, near the entrance of the humongous scarlet building of the Hex-theater.

"That is certainly true, Shauna. Even adults have things that they fear." Martha instantly agrees with her husband's words as the older female of the Vayne family reflexively moves to the right in order to let another passerby enter the smelly, shadowy alley they are about to exit. "Now, how about we go get some ice-cream and then-" But the kind woman's voice is at once covered by the thunder of two lethal gunshots.

"Maaama!" Shauna screams in pure horror as her dear mother falls to the harsh concrete of the alleyway mid-sentence, the pearl beads of the wealthy woman's expensive necklace scattering around her corpse in the ensuing silence that follows the startling gunfire.

"Martha!" Also screams in a state of complete shock Shauna's gentle father and the exotic mugger's pistol roars again spiting lead, before Thomas' body meets the ground with an equally loud and morbid thumping sound.

"M-m-mommy… D-daddy" Weakly mutters little Shauna Vayne with trembling lips and wet glistering eyes. Childish red orbs slowly rising when the hard barrel of a still-smoking pistol is unceremoniously pressed flat against her little pale forehead.

The threatening shadow with the wide grin that the child so abruptly comes face to face with cackles madly as the female Marai with the painted clown face slyly laughs in the relative darkness of the empty alleyway.

"Have you ever danced with Teemo by the pale moonlight?" The insane mermaid morosely asks, but seconds before Nami actually pulls the trigger the deafening cacophony of approaching sirens coming from near the entrance of the crowded Hex-theater forces the heinous murderer to flee.

Shocked red eyes stare in question as the Marai makes a swim for it on dry land and hurriedly disappears behind a wall of overflowing dumpsters.

…

"And that's why I am doing this." The hoarse female voice mutters with audible distaste and sourness dripping from her abused vocal cords. "This city is sick and I am the cure. Someone has to do what is right even if it is wrong!"

The voice of the unseen, tragic heroine fades as the camera lazily focuses on the shadows of a nearby rooftop.

"But a single woman can only do so much…" Vayne's gruff voice abruptly returns out of nowhere "Men and fish need to fear me! Dread my very existence… They need to cower in their filthy little fish-holes and rot in there, lest they happen to cross my path _and face justice!_ "

The moonlight seems to find some purchase in a black-clad form at last as the brave, gloomy huntress swifts in the shadows. The small movement causing the black and yellow emblem that's etched on Vayne's chest to briefly shine ominously in the thick, inky tar of the night.

"I needed to become more than a mortal woman in the eyes of wrongdoers, however. I needed to be something more than a scarecrow made of flesh, fitted in tight black clothes… I had to become a symbol that they could.. No, a symbol that they _would_ learn to fear."

Kitty Cat Katarina merely yawns from her perch on the rooftop next to Vayne, not in the least interested in Shauna's sad story. "Is that why you became a hooker, Shauna?" Kat offers with a sly feline smile at her sometimes rival, sometimes friend.

"Don't call me that! My name is, _the Night Hunter_ , this is just a symbol I decided to use to intimidate criminals!" Vayne angrily growls in her low heroic voice as she finally steps away from the shadows revealing the symbol in her chest for what it truly is… the stylized outline of a black fishing hook emerging from a circular golden well.

"The Clownfish will pay for what she did to me!" The brooding pale huntress breathes out in her signature hoarse voice after a tense second passes, only for Katarina to yawn in response and then starts playing with her fake ivory tail.

"Whatever you say, _Hooks_. Whatever you say." The alluring redheaded criminal boredly drawls near Vayne.


	68. Night Hunter Diary

A deep breath and the soft click of a recording device causes the small Hex-tech recorder that's clasped in Vayne's tight grasp to abruptly come to life with a heartbeat akin to the mechanical sound or a wind-up music box. Sharp clicks and the occasional chiming, ringing every few seconds as the tape that's attached to the center of the old, scratched device leisurely starts moving.

"Night Hunter Diary. Entry 291, October. The signs of unrest in the city are quite obvious now to those few of us that can truly see the world for what it truly is. A grand scheme, an inescapable prison. The citizens seem extremely upset today, running and jumping around the streets as if they are preparing for a riot, excitement shining in their stares and cruel smiles worn on their round faces-"

"Shauna! Those rioters are kids you know! We are currently sitting on a bench in a public playground, after all."

Vayne pauses, shoots Lux an annoyed glare for interrupting her important recording and then gestures for the blonde aristocrat that's sitting next to her on the bench to be quiet for a moment. The brave huntress then casually resumes her Night Hunter diary entry.

"Ahem.. It is like I just said. Signs of unrest everywhere, forms that are practically overflowing with energy seeking to overthrow our kingdom. Why, just a few seconds ago I personally witnessed one of those so-called citizens stealing an item from another one in plain daylight! It saddens me to see our glorious country like this, utterly destroyed by-"

"They were just playing football, Shauna! And the child that grabbed the ball was the goalkeeper!" Luxanna interrupts the brooding huntress once more and Vayne scoffs at the young light mage as she pauses to adjust her crimson glasses.

"That's what they want you to think, Lux. That is those cunning, little demons' alibi for practicing their infernal thievery skills under the very nose of our valiant guardsmen! You only have to squint your eyes to see the short demons' sinister machinations for what they are!"

"Children playing with a ball at a playground?" Hopefully asks Lux with a wry smile playing on her lips.

"Tiny spies! Practicing for the day they attempt to get their hands on gold and jewels, or Gods forbid the royal crown!"

The blonde light mage facepalms as Luxanna tiredly slumps back on the bench with a disappointed expression plastered on her pretty face.

"You are beyond hope, Shauna…" The light mage solemnly mutters while covering her cringing visage with her hands, but Vayne's attention has already returned back to her precious Hex-recorder.

"Chaos, chaos and corruption are evident everywhere around us. Strife is rearing its angry head and war is sure to follo-"

"Stop doing that!" The blonde light mage finally shout-whispers with a beef red face when the younger noblewoman suddenly notices the weird looks that she and Vayne are receiving from the children's frowning parents. "Those two you are staring at are just siblings fighting over a new doll! Why do you have to take everything you see so out of context?!"

The Night Hunter grits her teeth at this third rude interruption. Shauna takes a deep breath to calm her nerves and then stares fixedly at the conflict of the two fighting siblings. A pale thumb determinedly presses down on the Hex-recorder's button and the tape starts spinning once more.

"Chaos, chaos and cruelty everywhere," The brooding pale huntress slowly mouths against the microphone of her whirling recording device, Vayne's eyes seemingly still locked on the cloth doll that is violently getting tugged between two bright-faced yelling toddlers. The Night Hunter's lips then briefly twist forming an ephemeral smile. "The deterioration of the nation is visible to everyone, Demacia's present state being more pathetic than Luxanna's bra size."

"Hey!" The insulted Lady of Luminosity loudly yells in indignation while covering her chest and staring daggers at Vayne.


	69. 1 VaynexMf 2 Teemo's adventure

**There are two stories in this chapter. The first part is a somewhat smutty quick shipping attempt at Vayne X Miss Fortune (Yuri Tag). The second part is my gift to humanity.**

* * *

Infamy Mf Vayne.

The two women's mouths part after a little while, their full lips connected by a thin string of saliva. Miss Fortune smiles coyly at the Demacian vigilante that's seated on her lap much to the Night Hunter's visible chagrin. Shauna Vayne's still defiant crimson irises quietly glaring into Sarah's solemn blue ones with apparent frustration.

"You are getting better at this." The redheaded Mafioso softly drawls at her faintly blushing former rival, the captured vigilante's relatively fair visage sprinkled with rouge and lipstick smudges due to being on the receiving end of her criminal overlord's recent affections.

"…"

"Fine, don't talk to me then," Sarah mutters with obvious irritation under her breath when the other woman stubbornly refuses to reply to her for more than a minute, "I prefer you using that cute little mouth of yours for more enjoyable things anyway." The mob boss smirks at her prey, but the redhead's smile falter when the ex-vigilante simply continues ignoring her.

With a frustrated grunt Sarah pulls Vayne into another deep kiss, the two rivals' gazes meeting along with their tongues. The mild buzzing of the electrifying collar that's carefully secured around the Night Hunter's milky neck the only sound present in the beautiful Mafioso's luxurious office other than the wet smacks of the two women's aggressive ministrations.

Sarah slowly pulls away from the lips of her former rival after about a minute or so of intense kissing, the redhead's arms possessively settling behind Vayne's naked back. The cunning criminal mastermind's fingers busing themselves with playing with a few strands of Shauna's long midnight black trenches. Meanwhile Vayne just keep glaring at Miss Fortune, the two former enemies still gasping and panting, completely out of breath, their nude bodies pressed flat against each other's warm epidermis.

"Y- *Huff* your stamina is also improving." Miss Fortune states absentmindedly when she finally manages to catch her breath and Vayne simply grunts once more in response. Mere seconds later and with a grudging look on her face, Shauna brushes her lips against those of her very irritating mistress.

"You talk too much." The pale huntress says lowly.

Sarah is momentary taken aback by Vayne's actions, the brooding huntress' affection catching the infamous criminal boss off guard. But after a brief second the mob boss closes her eyes and leans in into her rival's unexpected kiss. Both women's hands unwittingly seeking the grasp of the other below the sweaty covers of their shared bedroom.

Shauna's fierce expression somewhat softening when Fortune's delicate hand tenderly slips into her grasp, much like how the redheaded Mafioso faintly smiles genuinely against the ex-vigilante's lips when Vayne gently squeezes her hesitant appendage in the near complete darkness.

Perhaps the infamous Night Hunter might be fonder of the notorious mob boss that defeated her than she lets on in general.

Perhaps there was a reason behind why Miss Fortune had, for the first time in her life, chosen to spare the life of such a dangerous adversary.

* * *

 **Vac note: Day 13, I have now shipped Vayne with 4 champions and I am still bored out of my mind. Perhaps it is time for the long awaited (by only myself of course) Teemo harem project.**

* * *

Teemo was waiting besides the road, his surfboard held on one defined furry arm, the necklace made of sea shells, marbles and Pirate Aatrox's teeth shining proudly on the naked muscular chest of the handsome male yordle.

"Oh maaan!" Teemo sighs in his cute high-pitched yordle voice that's currently also sounding manly as fuck for the purposes of this fanfiction. "I've wasted all of my money on this awesome shark necklace, sunscreen and a giant box of coconut-scented condoms, but now I have no money or way to get back home… Sigh."

Teemo then sees a four-decker pink bus that's rapidly approaching him and so he puts a friendly, innocent smile on his mug as he raises his thumb sky-high. The bus suddenly comes to a halt beside him with a loud noise of abused tires and the pinkette driver pokes her head out of the vehicle to address the handsome surfer.

"Yo, you looking for a ride, pal?" Vi casually asks with an easy smile and Teemo hastily shakes his head up and down in confirmation. A cacophony of feminine giggles suddenly bursts from inside the vibrant vehicle. "Then hop in, pal!" Vi raps her palm against the frame of her bus and when the vehicle's door screeches open Teemo instantly notices that the pinkette driver is only wearing a pair of blue sunglasses and an leather driving hat on her half-shaved head.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that. I completely forgot to mention that this is a nudist bus! I'm currently transferring some freakishly hot models to their respective towns after a naughty photoshoot. Job's tough... Anyway, don't worry though, you don't have to follow the damn nudist rule, the girls inside are just super horny is all. Damn' nymphos all of them they are, I swear!"

Another wave of female giggles washes over Teemo like a pleasant refreshing breeze. The Swift Scout flashes a grin at Vi and then quickly enters the bus. Teemo's third, rapidly hardening leg dragging across the floor of the tall pink vehicle...

The nude driver raises a scarred pink eyebrow at that. "You forgot your surfboard outside, buddy." Vi yells from behind the steering wheel, but simply scratches the back of her head and steps on the gas pedal when she only receives throaty moans and feminine giggles for a reply. "Oh, well."

The camera then shows the back of the pink four-decker bus that's violently quaking suspiciously speeding away from the viewer, a standing bright orange surfboard reflecting the blinding sunlight as white cursive letters suddenly appear at the bottom of the static TV screen.

'Teemo's Sexy Adventure' The letters spell out. And then the screen slowly fades and the monitor turns off by itself leaving you staring in awe at the cold black rectangle of your silent TV screen.

The End-

 _A furry hand erases the last word and deftly replaces it with another one._

The beginning

 _Teemo smiles, winking knowingly  
_

* * *

 **Before anyone points it out, Vi's bus is a special one and has the steering wheel on the same side as the door so Vi and Teemo can have their conversation without me adding more actions into the scene. The Sexy Bus is also running on Yasuo tears while an M Kennen is trapped inside its engine and Ahri's charms are leaking from its air-conditioner. Riven once also attempted to get a ride on a similar green bus, but it was filled with naked Teemos. Fortunately for her Riven has a yordle fetish. I am so proud of this little gem.  
**


	70. Vac15 A sudden visit

**Tags: Irelia, Syndra, Drama, Tragedy.**

* * *

Irelia curses quietly as she sleepily stumbles towards the door, her animated pair of floating blades following right behind her, clumsily slamming into furniture and the walls of the dark room alike.

"I'm coming! I am coming!" The black-haired warrior hoarsely croaks out as she fumbles with her keys while nearing the door, the dulling weight of sleep still partially shrouding the bleary martial artist's mind with some lightheadedness. The pounding on the door stops as Irelia absentmindedly pushes a wild strand of midnight black hair away from her eyes and finally manages to insert the key into the lock after the third try.

"Alright," the sleep-deprived Will of the Blades, sighs as she opens the door. "Now what seems to be the problem?" But the only answer the Ionian hero receives is Syndra shouldering past her and then unceremoniously sitting herself at the edge of the martial artist's bed.

Irelia pauses by the door blinking owlishly, attempting to recall if she had even woken up while getting out of the bed or if she was still dreaming. The Will's sentient weapon seems equally confused by the unexpected visit of the Dark Sovereign. The mystical enchanted blades shifting about as if they are attempting to chase away a particularly bizarre dream or a strange reoccurring nightmare.

'Can a soul dream while its body is wide awake?' Irelia silently wonders as she slowly closes the door and tentatively attempts a few steps towards the powerful sorceress that's currently taking big swigs out of a brown bottle while sitting on the edge of her mattress.

"Dark Sovereign?" Irelia mouths carefully with some hostility ending up coloring her tone as the martial artist proceeds to light the old oil lamp that's placed on top of her plain bed-stand.

"I have an actual name just like you, Captain Lito, it's just that you don't deem me worthy enough for you to use it." The younger woman drunkenly slurs, the strong stench of alcohol mixed in the sorceress' breath making Irelia grimace.

"You are drunk." The renowned Ionian hero mutters in clear indignation. Irelia pinches the bridge of her nose, the Captain's scowl immediately deepening when the obviously inebriated spell caster on her bed quickly replies with, "and your a bitch, Cap'n Lito."

The next few seconds Irelia is far too busy reining in her sudden impulse of accidentally skewering the Dark Sovereign with her animated steel for her to prevent Syndra from downing another generous gulp of strong, foul-tasting alcohol.

"Why are you here?" The scowling Captain harshly demands from the drunken mage and Syndra pauses for a second, before raising mournful lilac eyes to meet the striking green gemstones of Irelia's cold glare.

"Why I'm here?" Syndra slowly repeats in a slurred breathless tone. "You want me dead, Captain? Beaten to death? Burned alive on a stake and then fed to the dogs for my crimes against Ionia?"

Syndra takes a short whizzed breath as the witch's fingers tighten their hold on her half-empty liquor bottle. "Is that your preferred brand of justice now, Irelia?" The Dark Sovereign continues observing the quiet martial artist as a tense silence abruptly spreads around them like a suffocating veil.

The young witch waits for a few minutes in silence before Syndra averts her gaze after a while, when the martial artist refuses to answer to her harsh drunken taunts. Downing an unhealthy sip of muddy liquid from the brown bottle, the Dark Sovereign's gaze helplessly returns back to the carpeted floor under her footwear.

"I don't wish for your death, Dark Sovereign." Irelia slowly whispers after a tense and very long pause. The animated blades of the Ionian hero simultaneously descending behind her so that the Ionian hero can sit on top of their flat side opposite to the quite inebriated spell caster.

"You still aren't using my name, Captain Lito." The drunken woman on the martial artist's bed ruefully replies in return with a downcast look on her fair visage. And Irelia sighs from her unconventional floating seat across the powerful and unpredictable sorceress before deciding to once again open her mouth.

"Syndra then," the well-respected Captain of the Ionian Guard grudgingly abides by the Dark Sovereign's wishes, tasting the name of the rogue spell caster as it rolls off her tongue. Surprisingly enough, Irelia muses that she _could_ perhaps get used to addressing the powerful sorceress by name given enough time. If she absolutely had to, of course…

"I don't despise you as much as you believe, Syndra. Certainly not enough for me to want you to perish. Be it by my own hand, my blades… or another…"

"Then WHY?!" Syndra suddenly shrieks as she raises her gaze from the floor and Irelia can already see the tears glimmering behind the amethyst eyes of the dark sorceress. "Why do you deny me my rightful place?! Why do you keep pushing me away whenever I approach you?! If you don't truly hate me as you just claimed, why do you deny me my birthright, ignoring my _need_ to be in the presence of my own soulmate?!"

"W-why?" Syndra mutters in bitter resignation as her lilac-colored orbs practically beg Irelia for an answer. "Why won't you have me, my Fated One?"

The black-haired woman's face remains as neutral and as impassive as possible even though Irelia's soul is currently openly weeping inside its crimson phylactery that's attached on the very center of the floating silver blades.

"Because your soulmate is dead." The Will of the Blades finally whispers slowly, softly. "Irelia Lito, your Bonded One, is not here with us right now. You are merely speaking to her moving corpse."

And as if to completely convince the crying woman that's sitting before her, the undead lich carefully grasps the Dark Sovereign's wrist in her hand and guides Syndra's palm towards her still, silent heartbeat.

"N-no…"

The shade of the fallen Ionian war hero watches over the rogue spell caster when Syndra predictably breaks down on the spot, agonizingly bursting in tears as the horrifying truth finally dawns downs on her.

The sentient weapon that's cursed with life can only watch the heart-wrenching scene with newfound despair, immense sadness overwhelming the soul of the once proud, dead warrior.


	71. Vac16 The rescue

**Vayne, Lux. The rescue. Yuri, Romance, Drama.**

 **Beta Reader: Gmp1000.**

* * *

Vayne shifts in her sleep as a body silently slips under her covers. The Night Hunter's mind still treading the boundaries of consciousness and dream. Shauna frowns, tendrils of thought flickering as the intruder borrows under the bed sheets towards the slowly waking huntress. The dark figure positions themselves on top of her, their limbs carefully placed on either side of Vayne, mindful of accidentally crushing her. Shauna catches a whiff of Luxanna's faint vanilla perfume and relaxes seconds before the light mage leans down and kisses her.

The two noblewomen's lips soon part. Bleary dark crimson eyes slowly open and find themselves staring into a bright mischievous pair of clean azure gemstones.

"Stop doing that." Shauna chides quietly while still tasting of Lux's lips in her mouth. "One of those nights I might mistake your for an assailant and attack you."

The light mage once again kisses the sleepy huntress softly as if in apology. Vayne grumbles something unintelligible, but wraps her arms around the frame of the younger woman as Lux lays next to her on the bed. The blonde spy's head nestling in the crook of Shauna's neck.

"How was your last hunt?" The spell caster changes the subject of the conversation on a whim. Lux tries to sound curious and indifferent. She miserably fails. Vayne can easily feel the tension escaping the blonde blue-blood's pores as she anxiously waits for her answer.

"Everything went well." The brooding huntress whispers reassuringly as she affectionately plants a chaste kiss on Lux's left brow.

* * *

At least half a decade ago when the two of them were still green and complete strangers, Vayne had been tasked by the crown with tracking down a dangerous Hemomancer that had taken residence in the capital city of their enemies, Noxus. The mission had gone bad from early on and not too soon afterwards Shauna had gotten captured.

Due to the Night Hunter's solitary nature, almost a week had gone by before someone had finally realized that something had gone awry. The king had then sent Lux, Demacia's best infiltrator to rescue the captured noblewoman two weeks after Vayne's capture.

Luxanna had found Shauna a pile of broken bones and abused appendages. Tortured literary to the blink of insanity for fifteen full days and nights the brooding huntress couldn't even make sense of her surrounding anymore when the light mage had sneaked into her filthy holding cell. Much less stand on her malnourished, broken feet and aid Lux with her rescue.

The blonde spy had spent two entire months nursing the abused Night Hunter back to health before Vayne was strong enough for them to formulate an escape plan. Hiding at a secret safe house, below a bakery in the heart of Noxus, Lux had performed a miracle by keeping the dying black-haired noblewoman alive.

For two whole months Luxanna would tend to Shauna's injuries. She would clean her wounds, change her bandages, and coerce Vayne to eat when the Night Hunter refused to do so. More importantly, the blonde aristocrat would strive to convince Shauna that this wasn't a dream or a cruel trick and that she was actualy truly awake. The younger woman would help the dying huntress bath, appease her when she broke down and lay next to Shauna at night to keep the other noblewoman warm when her body temperature dropped immensely due to her wounds and her torturer's poison.

It was during those times, when Vayne was scared out of her mind after reliving the tortures that she had endured in the hands of the Noxian interrogators and would desperately beg for the blonde aristocrat to end her life that Luxanna had started making a habit of kissing the shaken huntress to sleep at night.

This soft, insignificant kiss didn't mean much and it definitely wasn't romantic at first. The Demacian spy would simply lower her head and awkwardly brush her lips against those of her trembling wide-eyed patient before whispering her a few sweet nothings.

Shauna had cowered on her pillow, too weak to even try putting her arms between her body and her assailant. And Lux had silently hugged the frightened noblewoman, holding her gently in her arms until Vayne had finally cried herself to sleep.

The next attempts had gone a little better, admittedly. Perhaps because the light mage had moved at a snail's pace this time and kept her lips against Vayne's for less than a millisecond.

Shauna had become more used to the kissing routine after the first two weeks, the huntress' negative reactions to the new stimuli lessening considerably before finally disappearing completely. Sometimes she even kissed Lux back. Sometimes the blonde fairy would plant two kisses on Vayne's lips per night.

The two of them had never became official lovers after their successful escape from Noxus per se, but they occasionally made love. Lux would always sneak into Vayne's private chambers whenever the Night Hunter would return back to the Institute after a hunt to make sure that the secluded huntress hadn't been hurt or was suffering in solitude. Much like how Shauna would always lend an ear to the bright considerate woman that had carried her out of her personal hell and kept an eye out for Lux when she was near.

More often than not one of the two noblewomen would find her way into the other's bed. Cuddling in for the night and parting ways come morning had become a favorite habit for both of them.

"Vayne, are you alright?" Her blonde angel's worrisome tone slips in through the cracks of the reminiscing aristocrat's memory and brings her back to the present. Shauna blinks when she suddenly comes face to face with the concerned face of Luxanna. The huntress tightens her hold around the body of her kind light mage.

"I am now." The Night Hunter tenderly whispers as she kisses Lux and then goes back to sleep.

* * *

 **Vacation Day 22: I have written 25 oneshots so far and I still keep writing Vayne ships. I should find another brooding female vigilante champion to write about, but Vi and Riven just don't have the same flare to them especially with Demacian pairings. Perhaps Xayah... Morganna... Hmm.. Cassiopeia? Not all heroes wear snakes(kin). On another note a bald Teemo would make a great Lex Luthor.**


	72. Landfall

**Short drabble**

* * *

"It is time, my love. We have to say goodbye to him, Krypton is doomed." Helpless tears are glistering inside the solemn yordle's eyes as the short silver-haired man rests a firm arm against the trembling shoulders of his sobbing wife.

"He will be an outcast. They will kill him." The crying woman responds as she promptly turns around and proceeds to bury her tear-stained face against the chest of her Lilliputian husband.

"How? Teem' O, will be a god." The silver-haired father quickly interjects. "Unlike our dying planet, Valoran is a fertile world brimming with plant life and fauna. Teem' O is going to be invincible there."

The yordle woman is still in the process of shaking her head in denial and remorse when a violent earthquake results in a few nearby buildings collapsing, startling both grieving parents.

"It is now or never, my love." The male yordle begs as both sets of beady eyes instantly dart towards the tiny mushroom-shaped spaceship and the furry newborn child that's currently sleeping within it, completely oblivious to the heart-wrenching drama that's unfolding before it.

"F-fine." Somehow manages to hoarsely whisper the mourning mother between her sobs after another short earthquake gives birth to a wave of terrified screams from the crowded streets down below. With trembling and suddenly rigid hands and surprisingly ashen fingers the crying yordle woman types a destination into the small spaceship's main navigation console. The fungus-shaped escape pod then closes with a nearly silent hiss and the two parents watch in tense silence as the tiny spaceship instantly lounges towards the gloomy grey sky. Mere moments later the green planet explodes, scattering numerous True Sight ward shards across the vast galaxy.

 **0000**

"Slow down, Dear." The purple-skinned woman pouts as she shoots Heimerdinger one of her best _serious_ glares and the blonde middle-aged yordle huffs in apparent exasperation as it lets its own sky-blue gaze find that of his kind, younger wife.

"Calm down, Lulu." The frustrated driver mutters as he raises a golden eyebrow at the still pouting female. "The road's empty, and there's practically nothing out here except for miles upon miles of ol' sold farms and wide cornfields-"

"Watch out, Heimy!" Suddenly screams Lulu in alarm as she suddenly grabs the left side of the hulking red truck's steering wheel and pulls it towards her side, causing the old vehicle to overturn, barely missing the burning deadly flare of a falling meteor. The red truck slides sideways, flipping wildly like a cheap ball that's thrown off a cliff, crushing crops and muddy cultivated earth alike. Both passengers bouncing inside the screeching husk of the damaged vehicle until the now deformed red car finally comes to a halt among a mattress of freshly crushed corn stalks and leaves.

"Heimy, are you alright, Dear?" Lulu slowly asks as she dazedly unclasps her seatbelt and starts crawling out of the broken passenger's window.

"Somehow," A pained voice breathlessly rasps from the other side of the damaged husk as the blonde male yordle carefully follows Lulu's example. "What the hell was that?" He adds with suddenly extremely dry lips that go even drier when his wife's voice abruptly returns with a hint of urgency coloring her tone.

"Heim!" Lulu yells and the blonde-haired farmer instantly starts dragging himself out of the crimson truck faster in case his wife is in danger. Heimerdinger shouldn't have worried about that, however, for when the fearful yordle finally manages to free himself from the remnants of his utterly destroyed car, the blonde farmer is treated to a spectacle most bizarre and mind-blowing.

Heimer's jaw almost drops to the floor as the mustached yordle's sight hurriedly follows his wife's pointed finger until his eyes stumble upon a mushroom-shaped spaceship smoking inside a blackened crater. Like powerless lifeless puppets that are being moved about by the very strings of fate the two farmers slowly approach the foreign silver vehicle and the cute little baby yordle that's peacefully resting within it.


	73. Freight Train

**Tags: Vayne, Drama. A quick attempt at a more fluid and conservative writing style while experimenting with dark world building and foreshadowing supernatural-suspense elements.**

 **Warning: mentions of self harm.**

* * *

There is cold and then there is winter in Valoran City, a harsh test of seasonal endurance that never fails to claim a couple of lives every year after the leaves of the trees in the city's various parks fall. The freezing gusts of wind then rap on the windows of the crumpled gray apartments, the temperature drops down and pedestrians vacate the streets. The lucky citizens, those that are wealthy and privileged enough to own a hex-mobile use their vehicles as moving fortresses of warmth. The restless working ants of Valoran City huddle together in the cars of friends, family members and close colleagues. Credits, bills or heartfelt thanks are exchanged for a quick ride to work. The exhausting rhythms of the great city blatantly ignoring the deathly chill that ends people's lives just outside.

The Public Underground Transportation Train is another viable choice for those unfortunate enough to not have access to a personal chauffeur or a vehicle at bay. A little less luxurious and eye-catching than a brand new hex-mobile the PUTT offers its passengers two rows of uncomfortable seats and four dozen handrails per car as the enormous silver monstrosity runs below the frozen guts of the city like some kind of mythical serpent. Fully automated and relatively affordable to ride, the underground trains supply the dying body of Valoran City with the working force its grey metal heart needs to survive.

…

"Next station, Demacia." A female robotic voice rings clear inside the speeding car of a late night silver train, a couple of passengers either grab their belonging or clasp their coats with grim expressions. Worn boots and dirty footwear tapping the vibrating floor of the vehicle impatiently while waiting for the double doors to soon open with a loud hiss. A little boy pauses with a hand still held in the reassuring grasp of his mother, forced to remain still for at least 5 minutes now while boarding the humming train, the young child's eyes somehow keep returning to the strange figure of another passenger.

"Bill, don't stare at people, it is rude." The boy's mother absentmindedly chastises the boy for its behavior as she spares the silent black-haired woman that is sitting next to her son a small apologetic smile. But when the woman in the worn black hoodie ignores her, the mother's gaze minutely lingers on the pale visage of the quiet passenger and the scarlet goggles that are perched on her head. The middle-aged mother instinctively grasps the hand of her offspring and pulls the bored boy closer when her eyes land on the other woman' scarlet orbs.

"You have reached, Demacia. Please, mind your step." The monotonous voice once again states from the car's speakers and both mother and child proceed to exit the vehicle in a hurry. Without anyone else sitting close enough to distract her inner musings, the young pale woman's sanguine orbs instantly return back to the heated foggy windows. The almost quiet hissing of the doors closing acting as the cue for the railcar to begin sliding forward once more.

"Next station, Noxus." Predictably crackle the speakers and the young woman closes her tired eyes, almost lulled to sleep by the rhythmic shaking of the pristine car.

The falling snow outside is instantly replaced by a rain of black-red liquid, skeletal hand suddenly lunge for something in the dark, a creepy smile turns into two smiles and then a motionless body. Brown hair turning red. With despair choosing the color palette, a scenery is drawn with explosive hate. A knife descends toward the stunned face of a pale child.

"Vayne…"

Red eyes instantly snap open as the pale woman in the railcar jerks awake and almost falls from her seat. Shaky arms rise to cup a grimacing visage, rigid shoulders slowly relaxing. Shauna Vayne takes a long deep breath as the vehicle spots and the doors open with a loud noise.

"You have reached, Shadow Isles. Please, mind your step." A homeless man with thin, almost skeletal hands picks that very moment to board the train and then sends Shauna a creepy grin as he takes a seat opposite to her. A young brunette woman that is holding a birdcage containing a majestic blue eagle against her chest hastily jumps into the railcar and pants for breath as the doors start closing. The homeless man sends the new arrival another one of his sickly smile as he starts rummaging through his pockets.

The scenery outside changes as the train abruptly rushes forward amidst the snow and Vayne's eyes narrow as the man seems to find what his was looking for. An image of two mixed colors abruptly flashes like an annoying warning of sorts behind Shauna's eyes.

The frowning pale woman takes a quick look at the brown-haired teenager that is currently busy checking on her eagle and then at the crooked blade that is slyly peeking from the tattered pocket of the despicable man. Vayne is already positioning her body to dodge the wild swing of the would-be killer when the emaciated stranger's knife angrily whistles towards her face.

* * *

 **0000**

Blink. Cold water is caressing Vayne's face, tiny bubbles of air occasionally escaping from her mouth and nostrils.

Blink. Black trenches are framing her face, swirling and waving under the surface of the quickly coloring liquid.

Blink. The headache is killing her, Vayne's vision blurry and her face numb from the low temperature of the water, macabre images flashing like sudden stabs in the back of her skull. If only the quick dip in the sink would muffle the voices like it could so easily impair her hearing. If only the voices had lips that could be stitched shut.

Blink. The pale woman's lungs are almost out of air now, her eyesight fading, Shauna's eardrums are filled with bloody liquid along with screams and yells that have no body nor face.

Blink. The last vestiges of oxygen leave like fragile shifting marbles when Vayne opens her mouth. For just a moment, the injured woman entertains the thought of never surfacing again. Never taking another breath, simply going to sleep with her head shoved in the bloodied bowl of her bathroom's cracked sink. Extinguishing her life to mute the invisible mouths. Perhaps…

Tempting as it is, the pale woman keeps her eyes open as she forces herself to pull her head out and face the broken bitch in the mirror. Bloodshot red eyes observe her without emotion from the other side of the stained glass, familiar bruises and wounds welcoming her back to reality with crimson tears spilling across her battered reflection.

"What are you looking at?" The bitch with the split bottom lip mutters against the face in the glass and when the other person refuses to answer Vayne just snorts and limps out of the bathroom. Droplets of water and fresh-leaking blood forming a path behind the brooding woman as she painstakingly makes her way to a filthy, depressing bare bedroom.

Tossing her body against the old mattress is the easy part, peeling her tattered hoodie off her porcelain skin feels like attempting to climb down a skyscraper while hanging upside-down. Vayne somehow manages it even if she is still wearing her torn jeans and shoes when she tosses the covers over her feverish form, unseen mouths already whispering murder in her thumping ears.

"S-shut up." The pale woman mutters in an exhausted tone of voice whilst shivering, Vayne's wet hair already forming small puddles of muddied water against the pillow. The voices seem to only get louder and louder, however.

A bleeding hand blindly latches on a small Hex-tech device that rest near the bed and brings the powerful shocker close to previously burnt, ivory flesh. "Shut up." Vayne repeats once more as she positions the small device under her chin and presses the silver button.

The electric current makes the brooding woman spasm and croak something terrible as she jolts, Vayne's unresponsive limbs bouncing across the sheets, scarlet-stained fingers tightly clenching from the immense pain. After what feels like an eternity to the breathless woman the button is released from numb paralyzed fingers.

Panting while huddled under the sheets, dull red eyes close as Shauna passes out. Mere seconds before she loses consciousness, the voices finally disappear.

The scenes of cruelty still remain, however. Like despicable bogeymen that find the chance to slip out from between the cracks on the wall when the lights are off the images smother Vayne's brain into a cerement of violence.


	74. A piece of mind

**Tags: Humor, Comedy, Riven, Jinx.**

Crimson eyes slowly open to examine their surroundings. A white-haired warrior is currently standing on some kind of low circular altar that's surrounded by enormous constructs brimming with power and stuffed with rare, visibly vibrating crystals. The gaze of the solitary warrior attentively wanders across the familiar battlefield that she has visited more times that she can recall. The memories of hard-earned triumphs and bitter defeats minutely resurfacing inside the young woman's mind, until a faceless voice suddenly draws the contemplating fighter out of her distracting thoughts.

Mindless puppets garbed in red tunics abruptly materialize before the pale warrior's very eyes. Out of mere habit, a gauntleted hand grips a broken black blade that's inscribed with long forgotten Noxian words of power. The shattered weapon reacts to the touch of its owner, a faint green outline spreading across the ancient etchings of the letters that had been so many years ago meticulously chipped off the surface of the heavy runic blade.

The Noxian briefly glances at her old partner curiously, her maroon-colored orbs taking in the sight of the shattered sword. And even though the veteran soldier doesn't quite smile, the fighter's muscles slightly relax and her posture becomes less threatening.

'Riven, can you hear me?'

The Noxian woman now identified as Riven the Exile initially jolts in surprise when the voice of a stranger echoes inside her thoughts. Only for the albino swordswoman to calm down at the next moment when Riven quickly realizes that she is just having a telepathic conversation with her Summoner for the match.

'Yes, Summoner. Where are my teammates?' The female League champion mentally replies and her Summoner nervously clears his throat before speaking in her head. Riven doesn't even know how such a thing is possible, but it apparently is and so the solitary exiled soldier doesn't question it.

'This isn't an official match, Exile. You were summoned here so we could test some new enchantments that will hopefully speed up a champion's response to sudden changes in battle. I am currently sending you a mental image of the battlefield. Could you describe to me what you can see?'

Riven tries to focus, the mental image is there, certainly accessible to her and yet too unclear, almost indiscernible for the snow-haired swordswoman to make heads or tails of it.

'I can distinguish a large body of water so the place depicted is probably near the river, and some forest vegetation, but the rest isn't clear enough for me to recognize the place.'

…

'I see.' The summoner grumbles with some disappointment and Riven can almost.. experience? his resignation due to the magical bond that is currently connecting their thoughts.

'How about this one, then? Is this mental image also blurry?'

Riven pauses for a few moments and she then subconsciously nods her head even though the Summoner is most likely unable to see her.

'It... looks like the spawning location for the dragon? I can see a natural cavity burrowing into a hill and something else akin to flowing water.'

…

'Close enough I guess, it is the Baron Pit, but it seems like these enchantments aren't quite ready to be used in official League matches just yet. Thank you for your time, Miss Riven. The Institute of War appreciates your cooperation.'

Riven bows her head slightly and closes her eyes as the white-haired warrior disappears from this plane of eternal conflict and worldwide consequences.

* * *

 **0000**

The stoic battle-hardened swordswoman somewhat staggers when Riven's feet unexpectedly land once more on the marble floor of the completely abandoned summoning chamber. The six tall pillars made of aquamarine pulsating stone being the only thing of note other than the magical inscriptions that are already cooling down beneath Riven's sandals when the Noxian deserter abruptly materializes inside the pristine white room.

Riven is still a little wary, not to mention winded by the intrusive pull of the Summoners' magic and the rapid change of scenery when a loud growl emanating from the warrior's empty stomach gives Riven some insight into what she ought to be doing instead of wasting her time like a complete tool. With determined, and albeit hurried footsteps Riven heads towards the mess hall to finally get some food in her. Completely unaware of the almost invisible sky blue magical glint that soon fades from her stern maroon-colored eyes.

* * *

 **0000**

A loud buzzing fills the solitary warrior's ears when Riven enters the gargantuan room, the clanking of plates, eating utensils and such tableware a constant cacophony of livid activity that's always present in the background. Not one for dillydallying without a reason, Riven casually grabs a serving tray from near the stalls and fills it with a small variety of foods she is fond of, before the quite hungry Exile proceeds to find an empty table to enjoy her food, away from the other noisy residents of the Institute.

"Just look at her, sitting there oh-so-quietly, all reclusive and brooding! Eating alone by herself. That was _my_ thing before She barged in here, with her fancy war scars and her stupid sob story."

Still in the middle of chewing a mouthful of delicious meat pie, Riven raises her eyes towards the direction of the feminine voice and glares at a presently scowling Shauna Vayne that's seated a few tables away from her. The Exile's mood spirals downwards. Yes, Riven was sadly used to people openly insulting her for either her leaving Noxus after it had betrayed her, or due to her Noxian nationality. But even so, the presently annoyed female albino was pretty sure that she had never done anything bad to earn her the ire of the clearly agitated Night Hunter.

Riven decides to ignore the Demacian woman's harsh words after a tense moment of silence and the peeved Exile slowly returns back to devouring the rest of her tasty meat pie.

"Just look at her wolfing down all that food! Does she have no shame? And here I am trying to rein in my weight, eating only salads for a whole month while _She_ can afford to eat more food than three grown men and still stay slim like a Bilge-rat's tail! Nagakabouros help me, this woman is a damn glutton!"

Riven can't help it, but choke on her mouthful of meat pie this time. Totally caught off guard by the practically scorching, acidic remarks that had been so abruptly hurled her way. The Exile coughs and then downs an entire glass of water as she tries to regain her breathing again. Through wet, teary eyes the recovering albino swordswoman spies Illaoi passing by her table with an empty food tray clasped in her dark-skinned hands.

"Serves you right, glutton!" Illaoi smirks victoriously as she disposes of her food tray and then leaves the room with big strides.

What the hell was wrong with everybody today? First Vayne accuses her of stealing her 'brooding spotlight' or whatever, and then Illaoi basically calls her a fat pig. Riven suddenly eyes her empty water glass warily. _Was there something in the Institutes water?_

"Notice me. Hey, hey notice me. Please, notice me Rivy? Pweeeease?... Just fucking notice me, Riven! Come on already! **Please** , look at me you dashing albino lookin' ass, rugged beauty lookin'ass, you dreamy female Noxian woman-hunk model, you!"

Riven hesitantly glances towards the very impatient speaker, and Luxanna Crownguard, the babbly Lady of Luminosity meets the Exile's curious gaze for all but a millisecond, before the blonde light mage's face suddenly flashes a bright red. Lux instantly snaps her head away, hastily engaging in a seemingly frantic conversation with her very confused older brother, Garen.

"Squeeeeeeeeeeeee! Our eyes met! What if Riven also wants this? What if my rugged Rivy-poo already wants to meet mommy and daddy? This is so exciting! My maiden heart is not ready yet!"

The white-haired warrior merely blinks at those words, slightly puzzled as to their meaning. And Riven becomes even more awestruck and confused when the other Demacians that are calmly sitting at Luxanna's table not only refrain from clutching at their ears in pain, but even refuse to visibly react to the shrill quality of the light mage's high-pitched squeal.

"Stop staring at my cute ray of Demacian sunshine you pale traitor whore!"

Riven simply flips Katarina the bird without turning to look at the obnoxious redheaded assassin.

"What?! How did the _Traitor Bitch_ know that I was glaring at her? Riven hasn't so much as glanced at my general direction since she sat her fat ass down to stuff her face with meat pie.

The pale swordswoman pouts as she spares a sideways glance at her presently seated rear. Now, why did both Katarina and Illaoi had specifically mentioned her silhouette and appetite in their insults? Had she really put on weight?

A fleeting, but careful inspection of her toned stomach and athletic body later and Riven easily comes to the conclusion that, 'No, she hadn't put on weight. Everything looked quite normal to her. Perhaps those two should have their eyes checked first before hurtfully commenting on other people's figures…'

"Demacia. Demacia. Demacia. Demacia."

"Demacia. Demaaacia. Dema-cia. But Demacia. Demacia. CiaDema. Demacia not?"

Well, at the very least Garen thankfully sounded still the same as always, so who knows, maybe her fellow League champions are just extra jerkish today.

"Hey Sona, can I have this slice of cherry pie?" Asks Ahri a table away from Riven's as she points at something that's on the mute songstress' plate. Sona nods her head and pushes the plate towards the Nine Tailed-fox with a polite smile.

"Thanks!" Ahri happily exclaims in apparent glee as she starts digging her fork into the slice of mouthwatering cherry pie.

"I sincerely hope that you enjoy it you stupid vixen. You always take my dessert instead of getting one from the serving area on your own! That's why I laced this cherry pie with a potent laxative today!"

Riven's eyes instantly widen in shock at this surprising display of malice coming from the usually kind mute support. Ahri on the other hand merely swallows her first bite of pie and goes for the second. The Noxian Exile can only blink frozen in shock as Ahri continues happily polishing her plate off the tampered tasty dessert..

And the scariest part in the drama that is quickly unfolding before the stunned Noxian deserter, the most startling detail of them all, is that Sona doesn't seem like she is kidding! There is no way that the slowly sinisterly smirking Maven is joking with all of this hate and malice painting her airy voice-

Wait just a minute! Sona is for one a mute and two Riven didn't see the deceptive support's lips move at all when the mute musician had so foolishly decided to reveal her cunning plan at her Nine-tailed victim. There is also the weird part that Ahri is happily devouring the slice of cherry pie as if the Ionian fox is blissfully unaware of the mute songstress' true motives.

A troubling thought then enters Riven's mind. What if all the voices that she has been hearing today were not really audible? What if she was currently suffering from the aftereffects of the telepathic enchantments she had helped the Summoners test a little earlier that day?

As if this thought is the spark that ignites the fuse of a bomb, the already loud buzzing of the crowded mess hall suddenly becomes an explosion of yelling voices and blurry images.

' _Damn it, another lost match. I will have to win the next one for sure!'_

' _Oh, hey Gnar!' 'Demacia, Demacia, Demacia.' 'Force is meaningless without skill.'_

' _Yay! Apple pie!' "Valor get back here you feathery jerk!" 'Hey! Watch where you are going, asshole!'_

' _Why is Valor flying around with revealing pink lingerie clutched in his talons?' 'Just look at her, she is like a dream come true, a goddess. And I'm.. I'm just... Just a nobody. Sigh.'_

' _Now where is Morde? He told me to meet him here to talk about the next Single.'_

' _Damn it, Yorick is already here and I still have no idea of how to break it to him that Pentakill's next big hit won't be about rock and metal, but dubstep and techno instead.' 'If any other telepath can hear this, the trick to shutting off the voices is.. Oh who am I kidding, I will always be alone just like my poor ma.'_

" _Techno! Morde are you fucking high on paladin souls again!?"_

" _Valor, I am warning you, let the lingerie down or you won't get any more bird snacks again, ever."_

' _Oh! Oh no! I need those bird snacks! I luuuv bird snacks! B-b-but Miss Vayne told me that this clothing-underwear-thing is haunted and that she needs to see it in order to exorcize it and protect Quinny! You gotta stay strong Valor! You gotta stay strong.'_

' _D-e-maciaaa! Demacia?' 'Yeah rush to the toilets you shitty fox! Let's see if you are gonna make it!'_

" _That's it Val, nice and slow, put the underwear down, nobody needs to get hurt."_

' _B-b-bird snax.. I am so sorry, Miss Vayne.'_

Riven grunts in pain as the white-haired swordswoman stands up from her seat and unceremoniously proceeds to toss her body towards the great room's exit.

The accidental telepath's sight is flickering on and off shifting with each erratic heartbeat of her pumping red muscle. Riven's feet stumbling awkwardly against the floor, arms spread forward pushing other League champions out of her way as the Noxian races for the exit. A few scandalized yelps rise at this kind of rude treatment, scattered glares burning into Riven's back as the disoriented Noxian swordswoman somehow manages to slam her shoulder against the oaken double doors and crawl on all fours outside.

The suffocating fog of swirling thoughts and feelings seems to dissipate considerably the moment Riven exits the crowded spacious chamber that serves as the mess hall. The shaken snow-haired swordswoman's teeth clattering, her appendages violently quaking about.

Riven, surprisingly enough succeeds in dragging her suddenly unresponsive body a few more steps away from the giant oaken door of the chamber, before her vision starts dimming and she has to take a break breathing heavily against the cold ground.

'What is black and blue, and is about to show you the-'

'Blood for Noxus!'

'Damn mid laners and pesky marksmen, coming into our jungles and stealing our buffs! In my time _we_ had to drag the enemy minions to our lane from their spawning area and _then_ farm them!'

"These corridors are so plain, they need more decorations. Like my name spray-painted on the walls and ceiling!" One of the voices claims with sudden glee. "...Wait a minute, Fishbones, why is big blade lady sleeping here? You told me that we weren't allowed to sleep on the hallways and stuff! Were you lying to me, eh?!"

"O-of course not dear Jinxy." Nervously replies the insane Zaunite woman with a fake, intellectual tone of voice. "But Riven here seems to be in pain, how about we help our fellow colleague for a change of pace?"

"Meh."

"Come on Jinxy, what if she dies here and we can't shoot her or blow her up anymore? Won't that be a real tragedy?"

"Tragedy, fladgedy! Let's decide with rock, paper, scissors."

* * *

 **A few moments later**

"Goat Dammit, Fishbones, how do you always beat me when you don't even have fingers!"

"You let me win because you fear that I am going to run away from you and abandon you otherwise. Which is honestly speaking utterly impossible by the way, because I am an inanimate object for one, and two bec-"

"Oh, s-shut up, Fishbones! No more late night documentaries for you! Now let's go help big blade lady."

"Certainly." Drawls the fake intellectual voice as light footsteps lazily approach the collapsed Noxian soldier.

Riven blinks owlishly as somebody starts poking at her cheek with their fingers, the pale swordswoman painfully lifts her face from the cool marble floor underneath her only to come face to face with the grinning visage of a female psychopath that's lying on the ground with her… making dust angels.

"Oh hey there, big blade lady! It's funny also meeting you here. Exaggerated heh heh as I try to look friendly and totally innocent and also friendly."

The Loose Cannon looks anything but innocent as the insane Zaunite girl keeps grinning on the floor like a damn lunatic and making dust angels. Some explosives and ammunition rolling out from Jinx's various pockets and leather ammunition hoops due to the Loose Cannons jerky movements scattering on the floor around Jinx and Riven.

"Now tell Doctor Jinx here what ails you since we are both floor buddies and all, so we can solve your boring problem and I can get back to annoying my Pilty besties."

Riven is suddenly subjected to a very vivid image of Jinx leading an army of giant wind-up toys into Piltover while the grinning psychopath is dressed as Santa Bard, and the pale swordswoman grimaces in pain before the image abruptly melts into a colorful explosion of fireworks.

"There is no reason for pouting, you know. Pow Pow thinks that I am a great doctor, and I have never lost a single patient so far... Some have died however. Medical complications and stuff, you wouldn't understand even if I explained them to you at this point. The path of science isn't for all of us, I am afraid."

Riven simply nods, being in too much pain at the current moment to make sense of the senseless logic of the infamous Loose Cannon.

"So what's wrong with you today patient 31?" Jinx tactfully breaks the ice like the trained professional that she is as the magenta-eyed lunatic seriously starts scribing something on a notebook that she has just stolen from Caitlyn.

"M-my head h-hurts when I am around others." Riven croaks.

Jinx blinks, the Zaunite Lunatic briefly stops munching on the end of her red crayon pencil in order to gaze intently at the groaning albino swordswoman.

"A strong aversion of crowds." Jinx loudly states as she deftly scribes down words and draws unhappy faces over Caitlyn's important case notes. She then spares another glance at a visibly peeved Riven that's trying to grab her from the floor and the red crayon mercilessly descends once more towards the open page

"Violent tendencies and unprecedented emergence of quick grasping motions." Jinx continues her calm assessment of the severe situation that she has in her hands as the absentminded Loose Cannon merely jumps away from the angry Noxian's low hand swipes. The insane Zaunite's tongue comically peeking out from one side of Jinx's mouth in immense concentration.

"Riven is probably suffering from the dreadful Vi Disease!" The blue-haired markswoman exaggeratedly gasps in terror as the sanguine crayon dances across the notebook's white pages. "It is truly regrettable, for even though I have managed to diagnose big blade lady's ailment in time, there is no known cure for the scientific mystery that is the Violent Pinktard Disease! Dear Fishbones, I shudder at the very thought of two Fat Hands chasing after me while I am trying to carry out my voluntary work… On the other hand that might be entertaining."

Jinx deftly hops away from Riven as the pained swordswoman attempts to grab at her ankles one last time, the incoherent nonsense of Jinx mixing with the steady stream of random thoughts that the Exile is receiving from other champions and adding to the scorching hot agony that's presently melting the Noxian deserter's brain.

"S-stop talking! The Summoners did something to me and now I can hear everyone's thoughts! Gahhh my head, my poor head is about to explode!"

Jinx suddenly pauses, her red crayon hovering over a drawing of herself ramming a stolen police helicopter into Vi's behind. Magenta-colored orbs curiously drifting back to the downed warrior with suddenly renewed interest.

"So can you see this, then?" The Loose Cannon asks. And Riven grits her teeth when she is abruptly assaulted by a vision of Jinx drinking tea with two stuffed lifelike dolls of Piltover's finest. The snow-haired swordswoman sharply nods her head as she attempts to lift her burning forehead from the ground.

"And this one too?"

The female Noxians forehead instantly slams back on the floor, a very unexpected depiction of Jinx, Caitlyn and Vi setting fire on Jayce's wedding cake painfully borrowing into her mind with the ease Rek'Sai plunges into one of her eerie underground tunnels.

"Y-yes!"

"Buuut what about this one, then?"

The image that flashes into Vi's mind shows a ladylike and suave Jinx dining in an upper-class Piltovian restaurant, her weapon, Fishbones forced into a miniature tux being seated opposite from the dangerous psychopath. Suddenly, without a warning at all, a small padded dark box finds itself sliding on top of the expensive tablecloth towards the shyly smiling Loose Cannon. Jinx appears to be eyeing it hesitantly before she gracefully accepts the box and opens it to reveal a golden wedding ring with a tiny bullet woven into its front instead of the more common precious gemstone.

"Fishbones, is that for me?!" The Zaunite gasps in surprise and joy.

Riven opts to headbutt the marble floor underneath her in order to dispel the whacky vision while _her doctor_ proceeds to mutter something about ungrateful patients and Noxian rudeness.

"C-could you please find me a Summoner or a healer?" Riven pauses for a second to go over her last words "A healer that isn't Sona." The weakened warrior quickly clarifies with a cheek still pressed against the cold marble.

"But I'm here right now! You want to trade my vast medical expertise for the assistance of an alien magical goat or the, meh, spells of a striper that heals others with AOE fart-monsoons?! Unbelievable! Let's go Fishbones, it seems like we are not welcome here."

Jinx stomps away before Riven's eyes, her customized rocket launcher abandoned behind resting on the wall next to the speechless Noxian deserter. Riven is seething, she watches as Jinx's silhouette disappears at the turn of a corridor and then eyes the painted weapon next to her that's staring at her with blind, unseeing eyes.

"You should be ashamed of yourself big sword lady." A fake muffled voice mutters from the corner of the deceptively empty hallway. "Jinxy believed in you and you just had to let her down, didn't you?"

Riven just glares at the 'talking' inanimate object.

"Shame on you!" The altered voice of the insane Loose Cannon yells from the corner of the next corridor. "I say shame of you Noxian, I cant even bare to look at you right now." Fishbones abruptly turns away from the deadpan swordswoman due to a soft tug on the thin, almost invisible fishing line that's wrapped around the weapon's painted handle.

"I. Says. Shaaaaame on thee!" Jinx yells as she gives a stronger tug on the thin nylon cord and Fishbones is dragged a few more paces away from Riven. The weakened soldier remains silent.

"Shame on youuuuu!" Jinx keeps bellowing in a deep voice while pulling on the transparent fishing cord and the painted rocket launcher skids uncontrollably across the dusty marble floor until it manages to reach the markswoman's hidden position.

"Hmmmp!"

A pale tattooed arm hurriedly seizes the dirty gun and pulls it out of Riven's line of sight. The albino swordswoman sighs as Riven tiredly closes her eyes, trying to regain her composure. The _face_ of Fishbones then shyly peeks out from behind the wall, two pale hands comically moving its jaws like the mouth of a normal puppet.

"You know, I can still convince Doctor Jinx to come back if you have changed your mind..." The Loose Cannon offers.

Riven grumbles as she wraps her hands around her poor hurting head, and a sole excited magenta-colored eye suddenly peeks out from behind Fishbones. The weapon's mechanical jaws clanking open twice and then thrice only to close once more as the giddy Loose Canon grins victoriously from behind her deadly modified rocket launcher.

"Is that a 'maybe' I am hearing?" Jinx quips and Riven merely groans.


	75. Save a Brooder

**A quick light-hearted scene that popped in my mind.**

* * *

Fiora sighs once again as the Grand Duelist of Demacia keeps toying with her half-empty wineglass, absentmindedly swirling the red liquid contained inside the expensive crystal whilst trying to muffle Garen's baritone voice. The patriotic giant of a man having long since chipped away at the young noblewoman's patience reserves, Garen's determined words still ringing with cursed clarity against the nearly inebriated duelist's ears.

And Fiora _would_ have probably stabbed the annoying buffoon of a man if not for all the important witnesses gathered around the table. Exasperated aquamarine orbs tiredly wonder across the familiar faces of her fellow nobles, taking in the sight of Jarvan's big grin, Luxanna's excited clapping and Shyvana's more than audible snores before the peeved duelist proceeds to down the rest of her sanguine wine.

"And that's why I believe that Demacian dogs should be trained to be able to identify Noxians by their scent, and bark them deaf at a moment's notice upon detecting them!" Garen loudly exclaims with zeal thick in his voice and both Jarvan and Lux instantly rise from their seats applauding the dumb juggernaut with gusto. Inevitably Shyvana wakes up with a primal growl due to the two idiots' clapping and Fiora tersely refills her wineglass while the Crownguard siblings try to appease the Half-dragon.

Shauna sends the arrogant duelist a mournful, yet understanding nod before Vayne returns back to sharpening the tips of her silver crossbow bolts.

"Ahem, I would like to have your attention for a moment, please." A feminine voice abruptly makes itself known as the havoc caused by Jarvan, Shyvana and Garen reluctantly quiets down. Fiora merely raises her eyes from her now refilled drinking glass, shooting a scrutinizing look towards the youngest Crownguard member.

"Thank you," Luxanna sends a polite smile at the gathering of Demacian champions that are currently staring at her with various degrees of boredom and interest. "As you may know, hundreds of Vaynes die every year at fanfictions because of lack of cuddling."

Fiora snorts, Shauna grumbles, Shyvana smirks whilst Garen simply stares dumbfounded at his blonde sister with bulging wide eyes.

"Those Vaynes are shunned by their peers." Lux states with a fragile small voice as the blonde light mage presses a concealed button on her light baton projecting a series of images against the white wall of the luxurious chamber. The Night Hunter's eyes narrow in annoyance when she quickly realizes that Luxanna's magical slide is nothing more than a screenshot of a match's chat log with people blaming her for losing their respective lanes. Needless to say, Garen's eyes fill with shocked tears.

"Those Vaynes are flamed, abandoned and ridiculed for being unloved!" Fiora attempts to hide her smile even as Garen whimpers and Jarvan reaches to sympathetically squeeze Shauna's hand. Only for the agitated Night Hunter to respond by pointing her loaded wristbow towards the empathic prince's crowned forehead and Jarvan to instantly release the pale appendage with a jerky motion.

"It is truly sad, my dear friends." Luxanna continues while pressing another button on her light baton causing the magical slide that's being projected on the wall to instantly transform into a grey screenshot of Shauna lying face down on the Summoner's Rift. "But most of those Vaynes are going to die." The teary-eyed Lady of Luminosity concludes amidst Garen's loud sobbing as now both Jarvan and Shyvana are staring at the scowling Night Hunter with heartbroken expressions marring their faces.

"I-I had no idea.." The Half-Dragon whispers in a low scratchy tone even as Shauna quietly starts collecting her things desiring to leave this farce of a war meeting as fast as possible.

"She always looked so… so sane and strong! Muttering ominous things while brooding on top of random dark rooftops." Jarvan rushes to add before Garen's sobs suddenly drown out the Prince's voice.

"Why couldn't it be me!?" The Might of Demacia howls with much heartache and sadness. "Or even better, a Noxian!"

Vayne merely tiptoes to the grand oaken door and steps out of the noisy chamber as Luxanna attempts to establish her _Save a Brooder_ foundation for the third time in less than two days.


	76. Vac 18 Every evil witch loves Vayne

**Idea: Every evil spell caster secretly loves Vayne. Comedy.  
**

* * *

The Night Hunter is coughing and panting, her appendages heavy like iron bars, Shauna's ebony woven ponytail coiled around her collapsed form like some kind of dark slain snake. The pale huntress is racking her brain for a solution, a means of escape. A way out of this wretched mess before things got _even_ _more_ out of control and proved lethal for her. But sadly enough, all that Vayne can register right now is just how her pained body is splayed like a lifeless shot bird across the hard cobblestone, with her back against the smooth rock and her limbs outstretched in four random directions like a dying eagle.

All that Shauna can see are the tall threatening shadows of the witches that are leisurely approaching her. All that Vayne can hear at this point is her heartbeat pumping against her eardrums and the loud bickering of the dark spell casters.

 _Fuck! Galio, Bane of Spell Casters, why had she even thought it a good idea to rattle this nest of those serpents unprepared?_

"Did you kill them?" A feminine voice asks, the footsteps of the four living humanoid shadows now reverberating against the aching scalp of the powerless Night Hunter.

"Of course not, Elise! I know that we need to interrogate the intruder. I am not an imbecile! I simply sent some of my Dark Orbs flying in their direction in order to disarm them."

"What kind of sorceress are you if you can't even control the power of your spells, Syndra?" Another woman drawls in an icy undertone. Those bickering comments however seem to make the second woman snap in mere seconds.

"My potential is limitless!" Suddenly snaps angrily the second female spell caster, the tone of the arrogant woman's voice suddenly echoing inside Vayne's head due to the enormous amount of magic swirling around the body of the vile black witch. And Shauna's attempt to lift her weak heaving body from the damp slippery stone fails dramatically when another dark orb abruptly collides with Vayne's chest, sending the Night Hunter spiraling further into the threatening inky darkness.

"Wait, this intruder looks familiar." A fourth and more commanding voice somehow reaches the ringing ears of the currently writhing Demacian blue-blood. Winded from the last magical attack and with her already blurry vision diming and brightening of its own accord every few seconds, the defeated brooding huntress doesn't react when someone turns her around roughly with their boot impacting her side.

A sudden gasp is heard when Evaine LeBlanc unexpectedly comes face to face with the grimacing, very pained visage of the infamous Night Hunter.

"I-it is Shauna Vayne!" The shocked Deceiver instantly cries out in sheer horror and respective surprised gasps are at once drawn out from the concealed lips of the other three cloaked figures. The gathering of black witches seemingly startled upon realizing the truth of just who they had just attacked and managed to defeat so effortlessly. And the panting Night Hunter would have undoubtedly proceeded to dance about in glee at the fear her mere name had brought to these evil spell casters, if it wasn't for the little fact that she was currently busy coughing out her aching lungs and trying not to throw up in front of her would-be murderers.

"Did she?... Did Hunter-sama say anything about me? D-does she hate me now? Quickly! Tell her that attacking her was just an accident! Tell her that she looks a lot taller in person!" The arrogant second witch now panics as she hurriedly rushes to kneel on the damp cobblestone next to Vayne's prone form. And the wounded huntress can't be really sure with all the lights and dots that are currently flickering over her nose, but this abstract and hazy painting of a face that's muttering nonsense so close to her, looks... oddly familiar...

That last bit was certainly weird since Shauna hadn't visited a gallery or spared a glance at a non demon-possessed portrait since... Well, since forever, actually.

"Calm down, Syndra." Agitatedly hisses Evaine LeBlanc as she glares at the other woman with an annoyed pair of amber-colored eyes. "You are scaring Shauna-poo! Give the good hunter a little breathing space. Let's let her catch her breath and sooth her heartbeat before introductions take place." The sinister scheming witch pauses in order to flash Vayne a small, not quite _reassuring_ smile.

"Anyway," Evaine LeBlanc then continues. "Just how many dark orbs did you send her way, Syndra? Shauna-poo is barely breathing at this point!"

"Then maybe we _should_ be actually helping her instead of exchanging insults like immature children that are fighting over a doll." The icy voice from before suddenly states as Lissandra abruptly emerges from the shadows and kneels down at the other side of Shauna Vayne. The pale spell caster then cups the Night Hunter's cheek with her porcelain hand almost affectionately, and Shauna merely blinks, utterly stunned when she unexpectedly finds the Ice Witch's cool touch somewhat pleasant instead of frigid cold like she had always assumed it to be.

The wheezing Night Hunter is even more awestruck when instead of striking her, Lissandra starts gently stroking her slowly bruising, hurt cheekbone.

"Let's perform CPR on her." The Freljordian woman suddenly states and a pair of icy glasses shockingly appear on the cunning witch's face making Lissandra seem like a gorgeous pragmatic intellectual out of a romance manga.

"W-what?" The powerless Demacian woman manages to cough out gruffly from the damp cobblestone. Vayne hadn't even noticed that the Iceborn woman wasn't wearing her black imposing helmet this time, or that if she did, the Freljordian conspirator wouldn't be able to wear the ebony hood that was currently concealing part of her… blushing face?

But then again, perhaps Shauna was just seeing things. Perhaps the reason for Vayne's slow reactions and faulty present perception of reality had something to do with the fact that she was still splayed on the floor of a secret catacomb with three evil women spluttering nonsense around her bruised body!

"CPR?" Elise finally voices as the heinous, dreaded Spider Queen finally decides to emerge from the shadows much like Lissandra. And the Night Hunter almost smiles at the hostility held in the spider-cultist's tone.

 _Halleluiah! A-normal-psychopathic-shapeshifting-acolyte-of-an-undead-spider-god-that-grants-its-believers-immortality-through-human-sacrifice, at last!_ Shauna thinks _. No dark witches giving her cutish nicknames! Powerful evil Sovereigns shyly fidgeting under her gaze and corrupted pale Freljordian beauties giddily caressing her stinging hurt visage! Vayne would never have expected to ever say this, but, 'Finally! A genuine cruel rival that genuinely wanted to gut her and_ _then_ _kill her!'_

"And why do you think that I will let you mouth-to-mouth my cuddly huntress, Ice Bitch! Vayne is mine! All mine, to marry and love and to cherish!" Snarls at once Shauna's final genuine cruel rival with literal poison coloring her voice and something small, precious and important violently snaps inside the Night Hunter.

' _What in Teemo's crooked horns is going on in here! What the fuck is wrong with these crazy witches! Was this fiendish Coven trying to make her look like the bad person here?! Were these cunning, deceiving women trying to make it seem like she had always been the bad one all along while they were simply lonely misunderstood individuals?! Where_ _those venomous snakes_ _trying to force her to pick a new and more popular profession?! That's heresy! And-_

… _Why the fuck was Lissandra still stroking her cheekbone and blushing like a love-struck schoolgirl whilst averting her eyes! Why in the nine-'_

 _Her wristbow, where was her freaking wristbow when Vayne needed it? Why were all the witches present still yelling to each other about love confessions and CPR? Vayne doesn't need CPR! What she needs is her damn wristbow!_

"Fine!" Evaine LeBlanc, the sinister voice of reason finally dictates all authority, grace and dignified pose. "Let's make sure that Shauna-poo's life isn't in danger first, and then we can decide on the kisse- …er, I meant the helper."

Probably scarred for life due to the events that took place until now, the Night Hunter quietly stares at the Deceiver with a somewhat lifeless, deadpan expression plastered on her face. "What is the point of performing CPR on me if my life is NOT in danger, Deceiver?" Vayne cynically asks the evil witch.

LeBlanc's face instantly flushes red. The older black-haired woman coughing awkwardly on her sweaty fist while simultaneously averting her brilliant amber gaze.

"Practical reasons, I can assure you, Shauna-po... I meant, Night Hunter... Your respiratory system might have suffered some damage during our fight! We wouldn't want you dying by accident now. Would we, Miss Vayne?"

Shauna wouldn't really mind... Plus, great! And now Evaine was calling this ludicrous fiasco of her stumbling upon four powerful witches in the dark, a fight wishing not to hurt her feelings.

' _This is a new low Shauna.. A new low even for you.'_ The wounded huntress muses with bitterness inside her head. _'Perhaps you truly should consider changing profession.'_ Vayne childishly grumbles deep in thought as an abundance of Syndra's dark spheres lazily gather below the Demacian's body and then lift her up in the air with a slow and considerate motion.

' _They won't even lift me up with a sharp, jerky motion? Truly? Just who the fuck are these guys, Santa Bard's little helpers?'_ The Demacian noble continues grumbling pathetically inside her brain even as the magical stretcher gently floats forward into the looming darkness.

"Don't worry, Shauna." Lissandra nearly silently whispers from her spot on the left side of the makeshift stretcher. "I will use my naked body to cool down yours just in case your condition deteriorates and you develop a high fever."

Shauna proceeds to repetitively slam the back of her head against the uneven surface of her hovering stretcher. Each monotonous, dull thud of flesh hitting dense, concentrated magic emphasized by a furious quietly mouthed word flying out of the brooding pale woman's mouth.

"Where" *Bump*

"The"* Thud*

"Fuck" *Bump*

"Is. My. Fucking. Wristbow!"

*Thud* *Thud* *Thud* *Bump* *Thud*

"Is that Shauna over there!?"

Dazed by the unrelenting assault of her own doing, Vayne only raises her head a bit when the familiar high-pitched voice of another spell caster abruptly rings across the almost complete darkness of the secret underground catacombs.

Shauna first identifies the figure as Luxanna Crownguard, a fellow Demacian and a potential ally in these trying times. Secondly, she realizes that young Luxanna is presently wearing her Elementalist outfit and more specifically a weird gothic Lolita dress alongside a tiara of an ominous dark purple color... Lastly Vayne let's her head fall back on the hard mattress of Syndra's pulsating spheres with a dull thud after the brooding, pale injured huntress suddenly perceives that the light mage is apparently wearing a white t-shirt with her face printed on it over her other peculiar garbs. The design of said t-shirt being a simple one where Shauna's brooding visage is encased in a giant scarlet heart consisting of a string of red letters spelling, 'I heart Vayne' over and over and over until the heart symbol is formed quite distinctively.

"I.. I.. Mean." Lux then hastily stutters in embarrassment, the light mage's face burning red. "Boohoo, boring! W-who cares if Shauna is hurt or here in ACTUAL TOUCHING DISTANCE! Squeee!- Cough, cough! I mean.. it-it's not like I lo-love her or anything! Y-you big spell casting idiots!"

"Just kill me." Shauna tiredly whispers towards the catacomb's cobweb-filled ceiling. The courageous Night Hunter very nearly bursting in tears when Evaine LeBlanc of all people completely misunderstands her desperate plea for help and instead responds by lightly squeezing one of the huntress' calloused weak palms reassuringly.

"It's alright, Shauna-poo. We are almost there now. When we arrive at the Coven I will personally make sure that all of your injuries are treated sufficiently. I am prepared to inspect your entire naked body inch by inch if I have to, in order to find out the severity of your battle wounds, of course. Old and new wounds, that is. One can never be too careful when treating injuries these days."

The Deceiver then plants a quick soothing kiss on Shauna's temple and Vayne is regrettably too mentally exhausted and physically weak to push LeBlanc away from her, or better yet, to attempt biting the dark witch's nose off before it is too late and Evaine is back at a safe distance.

One by one more female figures start appearing around the magical stretcher, the sinister newcomers' surprised delighted whispers polluting the sunless catacombs with their immense joy. The exhausted Night Hunter tries to sleep, hoping that maybe if her attempts are successful she might be finally able to wake up from this.. this wretched nightmare.

The wary injured Demacian's eyes slowly close, and the last thing that Shauna sees before she is asleep are magnificent nude murals of herself decorating the ceiling of the catacombs and two equally nude golden statues carefully chiseled into her likeness standing guards over a giant opening door.

Vayne scowls even in her sleep. The brooding noble's mind finally catching up with the golden forms she had previously witnessed before sleeping.

There are only a few minute details wrong in the golden statues of the Night hunter. One of them being the bizarre ammunition that's loaded on her signature crossbows. The strange projectiles of the statues being too big to fly straight at a long distance, while the edges of the replacement crossbow bolts being too round and dare she say phallic? to do any real damage to an actual foe in combat. Vayne is pretty sure that all of those weird bumpy-thingies that are running across the entire lengths of the crossbow bolts' thick shafts are just there for decorative purposes and serve little to no function at all.

The sculptor has also gotten her face wrong, Vayne dully notes even as the unconscious Demacian woman continues absentmindedly strangling a normal _evil_ Evaine LeBlanc in the land of blessed dreams and logic. The golden statues are doing that weird thing with their lips. Yes, they are smiling.

* * *

 **Day 14. I am bored enough to write this story. And also: Warning: Mandatory sexy Teeto time.**

* * *

"Sister Teemonia?" Abruptly breathes out a dark edgy version of Janna that's wearing a revealing skimpy black dress along with copious amounts of mascara and eyeliner, small crimson blades sewed on near the edges of the long fabrics that float around the rogue wind mage's thin waist. Janna's once platinum blonde hair now dyed a moderately attractive shade of dark red instead.

 _Sister Teemonia_ raises her head from the bosom of a moaning Sister Ahri.

"Yes?" The short yordle witch curiously asks, her paws still stroking the raven-haired Vastayan witch's plump flesh. Janna notices that one of Sister Teemonias fake eyelashes is a little out of place, her fellow sister's weirdly textured mop of blonde hair that smells of cleaning chemicals slightly unruly due to the yordle witch's activities.

"I have just been wondering, fellow Sister. Why is it that when the Coven members practice intercourse on each other so we can hopefully pleasure our goddess, Vayne one day, you keep your clothes on during the entire act?" Asks the curious redhead.

Janna's sky blue orbs then lower from Teemonia's face. "Also, what is this huge bulge between your legs that steadily keeps growing when we touch or kiss you?"

"..."

Teemo loudly sniffles as he looks at Janna with fake remorse.

"That's my tail, Sister Janna. I am a half Vastayan from my father's side, and to make matters worse I was born with my tail being backwards."

Ahri gasps at the horror of Teemonia's tragic tale, the shorter yordle witch's face obviously overwhelmed by remorse. Teemonia still attempts to smile at her Coven sisters though.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know." Janna attempts to reassure the poor female yordle. Teemonia offers the wind mage a shaky smile as she grabs Janna's hand in her small furry paw.

"I don't want you or our sisters to see such a thing, dear Janna. I am really ashamed of my deformed lower body." Sister Teemonia confesses. Janna and Ahri instantly rushing to hug the poor tormented girl, and Teemo sniffles just a bit more as he slyly glances at the formerly blonde wind mage with concealed devious eyes while rubbing his hidden perverted grin in her bosom.

"P-perhaps… there is a way that you and Ahri can help me though, Sister Janna.. No.. I shouldn't have said that." Teemonia hurriedly retracts her last words as if she is hesitant and truly uncertain. "Please, just forget about it."

"Tell us how, dear Sister? Just tell us the way to help you and we will, I promise you. Ahri and I just want you to be happy like us while we are waiting for the arrival of Vayne." Teemonia masks her initial snort with another weird sniffle, her grinning furry face still hidden in Janna's soft bosom. _Yeah, right, as if the brooding Night Hunter would ever bother dealing with that sexy crazy lot._

"Perhaps if you two stroke my tail over my skirt, treat it with care and love and affection ...I _migh_ t at some point start believing that my tail isn't such a disgusting filthy thing that I have to hide. Perhaps IF you do such a thing for me, I _may_ find in myself the confidence to believe that Vayne might also love me, the ugly monster... one day…

"Like this?" Asks Janna as she starts gently rubbing Teemo's huge bulge and after mere second Ahri's hands also join her.

"Yes, exactly like that." Teemonia grins fiendishly as she starts folding the breasts of the poor naive wind mage.

"Sister, what kind of Vastayan are you?" Ahri suddenly asks with apparent interest.

"A scorpion Vastayan, my cute little vixen." Teemonia readily replies as she puts a fat cigar on her lopsided smirking lips. She then cracks the two Vayne-love acolytes another deceivingly charming smile. A glass of whiskey somehow appearing on the disguised male yordle's other hand "So keep doing what you are doing until my tail spits out the poison, my dears." Teemo lecherously orders the two naive witches.


	77. A favor repaid Cass and Vayne

**A favor repaid. Cass and Vayne.**

* * *

The world is still blurry and seemingly out of focus when Shauna Vayne, the infamous vampiric Night Huntress that's hailing from Demacia slowly opens her eyes. The room that Vayne is in is only spacious enough to accommodate the narrow bed she is currently laying on, a bedstand and a few folding chairs for the very unlikely prospect of her having visitors. A single, tiny window near the ceiling is shedding a few eerie specks of weak pale moonlight inside the small chamber.

It doesn't take long for Shauna to realize that she has been drugged, but the hazy memory of white-clad doctors and nurses rushing to her side and frantic questions being asked in deaf ears, quickly dispels any fears Vayne might had initially felt before actual panic even has the chance to bloom inside the brave huntress and settle down. The Night Hunter relaxes back in her bed, suddenly immensely thankful for all the pain-numbing chemicals that are undoubtedly circulating within her bloodstream, when Vayne faintly recalls the reason for her being sent to the Institute's infirmary in the first place.

Of course. She just had to play the hero again, didn't she? The vampiric huntress reluctantly closes her eyes hoping that sleep might find her before the effects of her painkillers diminish considerably and she will have to suffer through the rest of the night.

The possibility of such an outcome isn't realized, however. Somebody clears their throat inside the dimly lit room and the unamused huntress opens her ruby eyes once more. This time finally noticing the unwelcome figure that has been quietly sitting in the shadows for at least a few minutes now.

It doesn't take long for Vayne to put a name and a face to the blurry shadow-veiled figure that's merely staring at her from the cold inky black. After all, the Night Hunter only knows of one person that's fond of slithering down the hallways of the Institute of War and has such inhuman, slitted golden eyes.

Vayne remains silent as the seconds keep ticking by. Whatever irritable reason Cassiopeia Du Couteau had decided to personally visit her about, also being apparently important for the Noxian aristocrat, since the cursed Noxian lamia visibly has no qualms about playing the waiting game.

Well, the damn snake-woman can play the game alone, the Night Hunter ruefully decides. Vayne is presently drugged, pumped full of painkillers and she can't feel her legs, so if there is a time for someone to avoid social interactions and midnight talks with an enemy it is actually right now. Regrettably for the annoyed Night Hunter however, the Serpent's Embrace seems to have other plans for the rest of her night than to simply brood in the shadows….

"Soraka informed me that you weren't supposed to wake up until the next morning." The serpentine woman offers conversationally, all factual and refined as she straightens her shoulders and weaves her taloned hands on her lap. The cursed Seductress' scaly emerald tail silently pooling around Cassiopeia's folding chair in a way that looks surprisingly ladylike.

"Perhaps I am still sleeping. Perhaps this is all a dream, maybe you should return back to your chambers and we can find out which one of us is dreaming tomorrow morning."

Vayne tries to drive her point to the redhead before her. She is not really in the mood for conversing with seductresses and spell casters, now or in the foreseeable future, at least. Carrying the mantle of the Night Hunter involves investigating suspicious occult activities and putting guilty witches three foot under, so it shouldn't come as a surprise to dear Cass, of all people that the wounded vampire on the mattress is less than excited to see her.

If the Noxian champion realizes that she is unwelcome here, she doesn't bother showing it and instead continues to examine Vayne from the dark. The Serpent's golden orbs, intelligent as they are abominable locked on the bedridden form of the illustrious wounded huntress.

"Why did you push her away from the carriage, Night Hunter?" Cassiopeia abruptly asks, the tip of the Noxian's serpentine tail tapping the floor at a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm.

"I didn't. I stumbled on a pebble and fell. Your sister just happened to be walking in front of me when it happened." Sternly replies the injured Demacian. "Shoving her out of the way was an accident, of that I can assure you, Snake."

Cassiopeia instantly scoffs.

"I was there Vayne, I saw what happened. I had just finished settling my sister's tab and I was exiting Gragas' questionable establishment right behind you when the whole thing happened." The Noxian serpent continues, her tone even. "You were at least seven meters away from dear Katarina until you saw her drunkenly strolling down the road with a mug of ale still held in hand and the carriage making a beeline for her buttocks. _That's_ when you lunged towards Katarina, pushing her away from the vehicle's path. You getting stomped by the horses instead of Kat was _certainly_ not an accident."

A few silent minutes drag by as Cassiopeia lets her words sink in, the tapping of the cursed Seductress' tail still rattling the floorboards with patient and lazy, methodical movements.

"Even if I didn't happen to lose my balance, the Sinister Blade could have Shunpo-ed away in time to avoid being crushed to death." Vayne spits out, only for the corrupted spell caster to lowly cackle at the statement mirthlessly.

"I wish." Mutters sadly in reply Cassiopeia. "Dear Katarina was more wasted than a yordle in Bilgewater. Your utterly unexpected, yet timely intervention has more than likely saved her life tonight."

The rhythmic taping of the Seductress' tail stops, exotic golden irises intently borrowing straight into the sanguine depths of the Demacian huntress' eyes.

"But you already knew that, didn't you? You realized that Katarina was about to die, that is why you so clumsily _stumbled_ seven meters across the street in the blink of an eye in order to push my sister away from the carriage's path. That is why you so unfortunately stumbled your way underneath the carriage's horseshoes instead of my more fragile sibling."

The solitary Demacian vampire simply stares at her.

"I tripped," The antisocial pale huntress gruffly mutters after a while from her infirmary bed. Most of the damage done to Vayne's bandaged and shattered legs already recovering, thanks to the Night Hunter's supernatural, vampiric healing factor. "That's all there is to it." Vayne insists, but Cassiopeia has already made up her mind it seems, for the Serpent's Embrace slowly gets up from her seat and slithers next to the bedridden vampire's side.

The Noxian blue-blood's slitted pupils still pined on the Demacian noblewoman's hellish scarlet orbs. Somewhere outside of the infirmary building an owl starts cooing in the dead of night, before abruptly ceasing.

"Whatever the real nature of Katarina's rescue, bizarre accident or not, it doesn't change the fact that you saved the life of my precious sister tonight." The cunning lamia states from the shadows. "You've made a great service to me and my house today."

With a grace that's surprising for a woman that possesses the lower body of a snake, Cassiopeia gently grasps Vayne's hand in her own. She then lowers herself down and kisses it softly, the Noxian Seductress' serpentine eyes never once straying from those of the stunned Night Hunter.

"Thank you, Shauna." The cursed redhead faintly whispers in the dark as if Cassiopeia is afraid that someone outside the room might hear the words of her genuine heartfelt gratitude and forge a dagger from her blatant weakness.

The Night Hunter can only blink is surprise when the usually haughty and manipulative Cassiopeia Du Couteau suddenly displays such humility.

"If there is ever something you need that I or my House can provide, do not hesitate naming it and I shall do my best to bring it in your possession. The members of the noble house of Du Couteau never forget to repay the debts that they owe."

And just like that with a small tug of the lips that could be barely even considered a fleeting friendly smile, Cassiopeia releases Vayne's hand and slithers out of the depressingly bare infirmary room. A bit of extra movement on her hips as the Serpent's Embrace gently closes the door behind her after wishing Shauna a good night, and disappears from the sight of the speechless Demacian.


	78. A quick little story

The scene starts at a small clearing near the edge of the forest. A cozy little cabin can be seen lodged between the brown trunks of the snow-covered trees. With a few grey clouds of fluffy smoke occasionally erupting from the chimney of the desolate hunting cabin, foggy windows littered with the scribbles of a happy child giving some semblance of insight to the easygoing atmosphere inside the secluded cottage.

"Annie, stop drawing smiley faces against the window and go wash your hands before dinner, young lady." The grinning lumberjack of the story orders the red-haired girl in the cottage with a tiny pleasant smile, only for Annie to instantly pout at him, tiny fingers still smearing moisture against the wet glass.

"Buuut, daaaad! I don't want to eat more vegetable soup!" The young emerald-eyed witch childishly complains as she huffs towards Sion's general direction exaggeratedly. "I know that hurting animals is wrong, but I don't want to be a vegetarian like you and mommy."

"You don't have to eat if you aren't hungry." A female voice suddenly replies from the kitchen as Morgana suddenly comes into view. A giant, shiny, silver-colored cooking pot clasped tightly in the Fallen Angel's gloved hands, a delicious aroma already wafting in the warm room emanating from the plain argent container.

"I will eat it, I will eat it!" The young redheaded child instantly whines as it all but jumps towards the kitchen following her mother's departing footsteps. And Sion cackles good-naturedly before abandoning today's newspaper in order to join the two women in the next room and enjoy his dinner.

Morgana merely spares Sion an absentminded glare when the giant lumberjack enters the kitchen and sits on a rickety wooden stool. Terribly preoccupied with both serving Annie and keeping the family's dog, Nasus from jumping on top of the table and breaking the plates at the same time, the Fallen Angel can only afford to nod towards the faintly crackling fireplace instead of addressing her husband directly.

"Please, toss some logs at the fire, dear. You know how much I dislike being cold and sickly." Morgana grumbles whilst serving herself this time and Sion simply grunts in acknowledgement as the giant lumberjack rises from his seat. The bear of a man offers poor Annie a quick apologetic smile as he powerlessly watches his loving wife practically drag poor Nasus away from the child's stubborn grasp. The little brown dog's mouth already smeared with a good portion of the redhead's dinner.

Morgana's lecture thankfully enough somewhat fades from Sion's ringing ears as the enormous lumberjack approaches the dark storeroom and unlocks the old heavy door. With no light capable of entering the cold quiet room due to its lack of windows, the burly man has to reach blindly in the dark in order to retrieve a few dry logs from the jumbled pile of cut wood.

"Mooom! Why can't Nasus eat with us? He can behave! Don't you, boy?" Annie's whiney voice unexpectedly rises as Sion contently smirks to himself and exits the dark room with only two big, carefree strides. The enormous lumberjack minutely pauses in order to wipe the fresh red stains on his palms against his scarlet checked shirt, barely sparing the dead Treant inside the quiet storeroom a fleeting glance, before locking the door behind him.

Sion then casually walks towards the lively kitchen, Maokai's unseeing stare successfully obscured by the barrier of wet coppery wood and life-smeared iron. The smiling giant throws a new log in the hearth and takes his seat at the table between Morgana and Annie. Nasus pitifully rubbing his head against the lumberjack's faded jeans while begging for treats under the table.

* * *

 **Notes: Ivern you are next (not really), but I am pretty sure the happy Treant would shat Logs if he knew how Morgana got her Wood from Sion every night, or how many trees have Fallen victims to the mad lumberjack, for that matter. It is almost sad, the thought of all those poor trees meeting their untimely ends Splinters my very heart. So much Saw-dness, so much Des-shear. It is just Plain wrong. So, please don't make fun of this story, ok? Thanks a branch, guys.**


	79. Vac20 The Angel of Noxus

**The angel of Noxus. Tags: Riven, Fantasy? Lore expansion? It is a story.**

* * *

"Aaaaaaah! Run! The sky is falling down!"

The emaciated children of the Noxian slums scatter like a flight of startled pigeons. Their footsteps clattering against the filthy cobblestone as the little homeless rascals flee in all possible directions, abandoning the black smoking crater behind. All but one of the orphaned offspring of Noxus, be it orphaned by famine or sudden death, or even disease for that matter leave the unmoving figure that's lying at the center of the charred hole untouched. All but the little white-haired girl that's looking at the burnt body on the ground with a mixture of horror and awe in their wide sanguine eyes, that is.

And then the scorched woman in the hole starts coughing. Her fingers combing the cracked cobblestone underneath her as she attempts to stand up, only for her to fall back down again with a hoarse and breathless pained cry. The remnants of once proud, but now tattered wings still weakly stretching and folding halfway, sometimes twitching against the stranger's back, albeit probably subconsciously.

The pale woman then goes rigid and remains deathly still. The long curtain of her purplish, midnight black hair cascading over the strange creature's face covering her pained expression. Riven waits for a minute and then another one and then another, the little albino's maroon-colored orbs watching the silent figure with shocked trepidation. Circling the swallow crater with hesitant steps, the white-haired orphan spots an ornate golden bracelet clasped around the left bloody wrist of the possibly dead burnt woman.

The child pauses. Its reluctant gaze darting between the treasure in sight and the smoking carcass of the mysterious female ahead. Now, normally, the white-haired girl would rather not approach the burnt corpse of the mysterious woman if she could help it, but presently and with an actual prize there to rekindle the starving orphan's interest, young Riven steels her resolve for what she has to do in order to survive.

Knowing that the stories carried by the lips of the fleeing rascals and the smoke rising from the burnt hole would soon draw the attention of the city's guards, the orphan takes a small hesitant step towards the direction of the dead angel.

…

Nothing alarming happens. Tiny embers continue their peculiar dance along the edge of the shallow hole, the stench of burned flesh wafting from the silhouette of the humanoid comet somewhat irritating Riven's nostrils. With the all too probable thought of imminent guardsmen arriving and stealing the treasure from her compelling Riven to action, the starving orphan dares to take a few more reluctant steps towards the winged corpse and dip its little feet in the dry black pond of hot melted cobblestone. The little girl's alert red orbs never once straying from the nearing glint of her precious prize. Her footwear already warming up due to the heat surrounding the supernatural comet.

It feels like the whole world has stopped turning, that even Valoran itself is holding its breath when Riven is finally standing inside the hole, quietly overlooking the corpse of the fallen celestial. The orphan tiptoes to the side of the eerie entity, grabs a charred piece of warm rock from the rubble encircling the dark-haired woman's prone form, and then abruptly tosses it at the other side of the smoking black crater.

The rock thunders like a war horn inside the unnatural veil of silence that is presently engulfing the world, and yet the winged corpse doesn't even flinch at the loud sound. That's why Riven gathers the courage to lightly kick it with her ragged torn shoe.

 _*Thump!_ The toddler's small foot muffledly collides with the burnt side of the fallen angel on the floor. Ready to bolt, the white-haired orphan awaits with bated breath to see the reaction of the unmoving celestial woman.

When close to five seconds pass without the burnt woman rising like a vengeful wrath or screeching like a mad banshee at her, the child's eyes return back to the subdued yellowish glint of the alien golden bracelet. A childish little pale arm tentatively stretches as far as it can away from its body in order to grasp the piece of jewelry from a safe distance. The dirty fingers of the hungry Noxian orphan lightly feeling for the clasp of the beautiful otherworldly ornament.

Clink, clink, clink, the bracelet chimes amongst the cobble and the scattered black ashes, and yet it stubbornly remains firmly attached to the dead angel's hand.

Riven continues unsuccessfully fumbling with the golden clasp, the little rascal's dirty fingertips occasionally brushing against the dead woman's burnt skin until the starving orphan finally ascertains that she will have to attempt unfastening the jewelry with both of her hands in order to actually claim her valuable prize. Much to her more than palpable distaste little Riven also realizes that she _will_ unfortunately have to move closer to the bloody dead angel in to so.

The young girl grits its teeth in frustration. Why couldn't things go her way for once? With a fearful expression plastered on her serious, yet childish visage, and the little albino's already pale complexion draining completely of color Riven hesitantly kneels next to the fallen angel's scorched corpse. Two tiny and shaky dirty hands now fervently tugging at the strange golden jewel left and right.

"Come on.." The little white-haired rascal whispers with urgency as she spins the precious bracelet around the still woman's wrist while shooting frantic glances at the obscured face of the celestial comet. "Come on.. Come on.. Come on!" Riven chants under her hitched breath as she struggles with the clasp of the golden jewelry.

"Yes!" The toddler victoriously exclaims when the complex clasping mechanism finally comes undone and the valuable treasure is freed from the dead angel's limp and charred appendage.

The faint smile perched on Riven's lips instantly subdues when the hungry orphan takes a better look at its grand prize and quickly realizes something both startling and peculiar about the strange object. The golden bracelet seems like a normal piece of jewelry upon first inspection. A circular band of precious metal with a few white gemstones fitted along the length of the perfect radiant circle. And then the dumbfounded orphaned rascal notices the sturdy-looking clasp at the side of the precious band and the single golden blackened link that is still attached to this alarming addition, and Riven's heart is filled with sudden dread. For the young white-haired toddler finally realizes at last the horrible mistake that she's made.

Because the strange circular golden band wasn't a strange piece of jewelry as the young homeless child had initially thought in her utter despair and substantial glee, but the leftover remains of a pair of celestial manacles.

…A pair of manacles that were now removed from the flinching wrists of the obviously not-so-dead woman.

And as if on cue the winged woman's burnt arm abruptly lashes out from the impossibly warm floor, darting towards the unsuspecting trembling arm of the presently stunned white-haired child. The fallen angel's sharp nails mercilessly digging into the poor toddler's flesh eliciting a pained scream from Riven.

"Aaargh!" Riven cries out in both surprise and terror as the injured burnt woman slowly lifts her head from the charred cracked cobblestone. Much like a vengeful ghost crawling out of the blackened earth, the scorched celestial witch weakly crawls towards the frozen in fear child, a sinister smile dancing on Morgana's lips. Her purplish-black hair partly hanging around her bloodstained face, full of broken rubble and dust as the Fallen Angel stares the utterly terrified toddler in the eye.

"Remove the other bracelet if you would, please." Morgana hoarsely whispers after coughing out a mouthful of fresh ashes and crimson droplets. The trembling toddler merely staring at the immortal winged witch in fright.

The impatient Fallen Angel's sharp fingernails then dig deeper into Riven's soft flesh.

"I said, _Please."_ The exiled celestial woman growls impatiently at the shaken toddler, anger and madness swirling inside Morgana's amethyst glare. Riven frightfully swallows, unable to take her eyes off the bloodied winged woman and guides a small quaking hand towards the angel's other gold manacle.

* * *

 **Notes: I like the idea of this one, since Morgana's arrival in Noxus didn't birth as many tales as I would have hoped. So I wanted to try my hand on Morg's arrival in the black city. An angel crash-lands in the middle of a medieval capital and nobody bats an eye. There was a story I wanted to write some years ago where Morgana is found by a young Talon and Morgana bonds their souls in order to save her life. A soulmate story of sorts revolving around Talon and Morg finding each other after the passage of some years. Oh well. Here's the Riven twist of that old plot. Maybe Riven was capable of removing the manacles because of her unknown angelic heritage, maybe Morgana realizes it and there is some conflict born around her befriending, killing or using Riven versus Kayle. Maybe the two come close or maybe not. Maybe Riven is Kayle's illegitimate lost daughter. There are a lot of possibilities in the setting, but I am quite satisfied with it as it is. Have a nice day.  
**


	80. Public service announcement

*Click

Two women only in their underwear can be seen sitting on the wrinkled sheets of a plain old bed. The first woman's hunched posture speaks of immense remorse and shame, the second one's reassuring hug also adding to the muffled sad hues of the dramatic scene that intrigues the average viewer.

"It is alright, Shauna." Quinn offers with a soft easy smile perched on her lips. "I am sure that this occasionally happens to all vampires."

The brunette scout's arm continues soothingly rubbing up and down the Night Hunter's rigid spine. "I won't think any less of you for it, I promise."

The pale huntress on the mattress doesn't initially reply, melancholic deep red orbs practically glued on the chamber's floor. Quinn's smile shifts uncomfortably due to the noblewoman's silence.

"What if I rubbed my neck with spices and cooking oil?" The kind brunette asks the silent hunter tentatively. "What if I tried to make myself look more tasty and appetizing? Would that help?"

Visibly ashamed scarlet orbs slowly rise as Vayne opens her mouth. The scene abruptly freezes. Teemo then walks in front of the two frozen women on the background and stares you right in the eye.

"Fang-rection dysfunction is a lot more common problem for vampires than you believe." The short cloaked yordle solemnly reveals with a straight face. Teemo's fake vampire teeth awkwardly moving inside his mouth with each butchered sentence the short yordle spews.

"Contact your doctor when the symptoms appear and we can help. Assist us in giving you a better, more fulfilling life."

The slide behind Teemo suddenly changes to one where Quinn and Shauna are happily running outside in the park, the Demacian vampire's form already expelling black smoke and tiny flames due to her direct exposure to sunlight.

"Don't hesitate! Call 000-Fang-Boner today!'

A phone number appears on the screen and then the television explodes.


	81. Slim Teemo

The Sheriff of Piltover offers the station's receptionist a fleeting smile before walking out of the nearly deserted waiting room. One of Caitlyn's arms rising as the cunning brunette policewoman attempts to rub the sleep away from her eyes whilst exiting the slumbering building. Neon lights and flickering advertisements inevitably welcome Caitlyn back in the busy nightlife of Piltover as the workaholic Sheriff purposefully moves towards the distant alleyway that Caitlyn had chosen to park her car in.

The Sheriff of Piltover ought to be cautious about where she chooses to leave her hex-mobile after all, lest her rambunctious partner discovers her police cruise again and decides to take the vehicle for another disastrous joyride. And poor Caitlyn was still sending apology letters to traumatized civilians after Vi's last driving adventure…

The exhausted brunette scowls as she pushes those very distracting thoughts out of her aching brain while simultaneously fumbling in her handbag for her car keys upon approaching the specific dark alleyway where she had parked her cruise. The Sheriff couldn't wait for that horrible day to end. She was utterly exhausted. Caitlyn had spent the last 48 hours trying to solve the case of a missing Zaunite serial killer that had seemingly disappeared from both cities of Zaun and Piltover, and slipped under the police's radar for good this time.

"May I have your attention, please?" A squeaky voice suddenly whispers from the darkness of the gloomy alleyway. Caitlyn raises a curious eyebrow before putting the hex-mobile keys back in her handbag and then turning towards the mysterious source of the sound.

"May I have your attention, please?" The weird high-pitched voice squeaks once more and Caitlyn finds herself moving deeper into the eerie dark alleyway while inwardly cursing the absence of illuminating neon advertisements in that rundown part of the city.

"Will the real Swift Scout please stand up?" The voice asks as Caitlyn silently takes hold of her trusty rifle and makes sure that it is loaded.

"I repeat will the real Swift Scout please stand up?" The insistent voice wonders aloud in the insidious dark.

Caitlyn slowly steps forward while pointing her rifle at the looming darkness, the Sheriff's brown orbs narrowed as the brunette woman moves closer to the unseen speaker. Perhaps Caitlyn's caution was unwarranted, her paranoia for naught. Maybe the high-pitched voice was nothing more than a kid playing with a tinkered voice modifier. Perhaps pointing the barrel of her riffle between the little troublemaker's terrified eyes would make Caitlyn feel like utter trash for days. But Caitlyn was the Sheriff of Piltover, and this could easily be a trap, thus the collected brunette policewoman should approach the unidentified individual with caution.

"We're going to have a problem here." The unseen speaker loudly deducts resulting in the policewoman's eyes to narrow even further if such thing was even possible.

*Duun!* A blindingly bright spotlight abruptly shines its white artificial light across the previously dark alleyway, chasing away the inky black shadows whilst illuminating the coppery silhouette of a grinning short furry man… And the dead bleeding woman that rests on the pavement right behind the killer. The barrel of the Sherriff's riffle jolts upwards in a fraction of a moment even if Caitlyn's eyes keep blinking rapidly, desperately trying to recover from the blinding intensity of the radiant spotlight. The furry man smirks.

"You are acting like you've never seen another yordle before."  
"Stabbing a whore, eating her doomed soul."

Teemo pauses.

"Licking the blood off a knife while kicking the dead doll."

"Hey, cop lady! Aren't you gonna make the call?"

Caitlyn merely blinks, completely stunned by the sudden appearance of a murderous furry midget eviscerating people right next to her parked police cruise for her to outright shoot the damn singing lunatic. Meanwhile Teemo proceeds to point at two other corpses that had apparently been dumped near the edge of the flaring spotlight.

"They first were divorced, throwing her over furniture." The Swift Scout helpfully informs a rather speechless Caitlyn.

"It's the return of the... Ah, wait, no way, you're kidding,  
He didn't just say what I think he did, did he?"

The insane yordle's closed eyelids unexpectedly wrinkle in genuine astonishment and exaggerated fake fear.

"And Dr. Mundo said... nothing, you idiots!  
Dr. Mundo's dead, he's locked in my basement! (Ha-ha!)"

Caitlyn can't help but take a step back at that? This… this unhinged bizarre creature she had never seen or heard of before, had just confessed killing her missing Zaunite serial killer.

"Valoran women love yordle men."  
"Swift Scout, I'm fond of him."  
"Look at him, lurking around grabbing his HUGE blowgun."  
"Flipping the Pilty police." "Yeah, but he's so dreamy though!"

The strange furry creature seemingly muses out aloud.

"Yeah, I probably got a couple of screws up in my head loose."  
"But no worse, than what's going on in your parents' bedroom!"

"W-what?" Caitlyn somehow manages to choke out, the young Sheriff's initially pale face quickly adopting an incredulous expression of utter disgust. "You've got no right to talk that way about my par-" But Teemo blatantly ignores her.

"Sometimes, I wanna get on Hex-TV and let a mean one loose, but can't!  
But it's cool for Kennen and Shen to start playing blues."

The armed yordle exclaims in jealous outrage.

"My mushroom is on your hips, my mushroom is on your hips" "And if I'm lucky, you might just give it a little pinch." Teemo then starts screaming whilst frantically humping on Caitlyn's leg with his eyelids still closed. The unnerved Sheriff makes a loud sound of disgust before attempting to peel the crazy yordle off her limb while quietly muttering obscenities.

"And that's the chat log that we deliver to a marksman that feeds"  
"And expect them not to know what a proper lane freeze is."

"Get off me!" Caitlyn yells as she starts hitting the rapping yordle with the butt of her modified rifle eliciting whiny pained yelps from the miniature furry murderer.

"Agh! Agh! Of course they gonna know what -aargh! LCS is!"  
"By the time they hit the fucking bot lane."  
"They got the League News app, don't they?"

"We ain't nothing but champions.. Well, some of us are also freaken' edgelords,"  
"Who cut other people open like cantaloupes _*Slurp."_ Teemo proceeds to lick Caitlyn's lower thigh suggestively while perched on her leg before receiving another devastating blow from the now loudly cursing Sheriff.

"But if we can hump Marai gals and Targon' blokes."  
"Then there's no reason that a yordle dude and a cute Sheriff like you can't elope!"

" _Ewww!"_ The brunette woman utters in audible disgust while attempting to wrestle the crazy yordle off her leg by tugging at its pointy fluffy ears.

"But if you feel like I feel, I got the -Arrrgh! Stop hitting me! I've got the antidote!"  
"Women wave your panties, dolls! Bros sing the chorus and it goes!"

"Cause, I'm the Swift Scout, yes, I am the real Swift-"

"Hey! Get your paws off my woman you furry freak!" A very peeved pink-haired enforcer suddenly bellows in pure outrage while charging towards Teemo. And the rapping yordle minutely pauses before it starts muttering 'Until I Collapse' with helpless tears slowly surfacing in his closed terrified eyes.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Eminem's song, Slim Shady and neither do I make any profit out of using it in this humorous? fanfiction. All the rights for the original lyrics and the song belong to their rightful owners. Eminem if you are reading this... Please don't sue me! Also please voice Teemo in any League upcoming movies and make an 8 Lane movie.  
**


	82. Fleeting meetings

**Tags: Lux, Riven.**

* * *

Luxanna coughs as she fruitlessly attempts to drag her heavy and unresponsive body out of the ruined bloodstained trench that she had somehow managed to fall into. The deafening screams of the dying and the dead encompassing her hobbling form, the outline of the Demacian spy's body barely noticeable inside the venomous shroud of chemicals that were being unleashed by the callous death barrage of the Zaunite smelters.

Poor Lux's mind had still trouble fully comprehending the betrayal of the Noxian High Command. Bombing their own soldiers along with the ragtag army of the Ionian rebels that were fighting for their land? Sacrificing their brave warriors like lambs to the slaughter just to claim a hollow immoral victory that meant absolutely nothing in the long run? Inconceivable! Demacia would never go to such lengths in order to avoid defeat! No country would ever do so other than Noxus.

Luxanna screams alongside the shattered remnants of an Ionian squad as another barrel filled with acid lands between herself and the injured warriors in an earsplitting explosion of boiling sienna. The light mage barely has the time to dive back into the foul-smelling trench as numerous droplets of caustic liquid spill overhead disintegrating the fleeing Ionian squadron. Lux desperately presses her palms against her ears and closes her wet sky blue orbs as the voices of the dying rebels quickly dissolve into a sickening quartet of throaty bellowing and howling.

And at this point, while being surrounded by constant screaming amidst choking in the epicenter of the Zaunite bombardment, the blonde Demacian spy is too busy trying to block out the sounds. Too scared out of her mind, mentally cursing her superiors for sending her undercover in that horrifying piece of hell on Valoran to actually notice the Noxian shadow that hits the ground of her ruined trench moments before another Zaunite death-casket explodes above them.

The panicked light mage whimpers, hands still clutching the sides of her head and her swallow breathing coming out in quick uneven sobs wet with sheer terror. Yet blue eyes grudgingly open. Lux has to get up and abandon the relative safety of her slowly collapsing trench. She has to leave this place before the fumes of the hellish toxins finish her off. She has to get a hold of herself and find her light baton among the smoking corpses of the charred warriors in the hole so she can perhaps defend herself against the white-haired woman that's staring at her in anger.

Lux can only watch in shock and immense fright when she is suddenly met with the fierce crimson glare of Noxus' notorious poster child. Wide wet blue eyes merely capable of taking in the sight of the glowering white-haired warrior, practically bulging in surprise. Riven's grim expression, the shattered runic sword held in her bleeding hands, the stained pieces of faded armor strapped onto her wounded body. The endless array of fresh chemical burns marking an otherwise perfect pale body.

The Demacian noble gulps. Faced with the female manifestation of the Noxian grim reaper while trapped in a bloodied sinking hole the blonde noblewoman meekly raises her petite trembling arms in a show of surrender. There is no way Lux can dodge a swing from that enormous sword in such an enclosed space, no chance of her retrieving her light baton from the muddy floor before the Noxian soldier cuts her down mercilessly. The spy's only option is to surrender and hope for a quick death that's less horrifying than the nightmarish ones being dealt above ground.

"I- I give up." Croaks the young Crownguard while helplessly glancing at the remnants of the shattered runic blade. "J-just make it quick.. p-please." She says, her voice low, almost getting lost in the havoc of the ongoing Zaunite barrage. The pale swordswoman is close enough to read the blonde spy's lips, however. She is close enough to taste her terror.

The Noxian eyes the frightened aristocrat for half-second as the chemical barrage outside of their trench continues stealing lives and erasing dreams as if they were nonexistent. The exiled warrior then makes her choice. Luxanna yelps in both alarm and fright as a bleeding arm grabs a hold of her muddy coat and shoves her against the crimson wall of the trench roughly.

* * *

 **0000**

The lone figure's boots keep sliding purposefully against the soft wet blades of glass, muffled footsteps leaving small crevices and messy imprints across almost the entire length of the mud-covered crossroad. The blurry figure remains silent, its weathered brown cloak successfully concealing the identity of this rain-soaked quiet ghost.

 ***Kabooom** , the echo of a distant thunder echoes among the damp foliages, a few glimpses of white lightning poking from between the interwoven dome of the rather lush treeline.

The solitary traveler merely opens their stride, muddy boots sinking into the damp earth under the violent symphony of the ongoing rainstorm. The pitter-patter of the sky's clear tears falling like tiny waterfalls, small droplets soon forming small lakes and then thin rivers on top of the hurried traveler's wet attire.

 ***Kabooom** , the roar of the passing storm echoes once more from somewhere between the clouds and the lone traveler actually pauses to spare a glance at the heavy lead blanket that's engulfing the sky before continuing their solemn march.

Abruptly, and while wrapped in the booming echo of the spitting clouds, a few paces away from the cloaked wanderer, another humanoid silhouette lunges from behind its cover.

"Wait!" Cries out the equally damp newcomer, a hint of audible desperation laced with clear feminine hues now mixing with the song of the mourning nature. The crunching of worn footwear against soaked earth being the only reply the desperate woman receives as the hooded figure merely keeps walking forward.

"H-hey, I said wait!" The second traveled yelps under the barrage of falling raindrops, the panicked stranger's tired feet slipping and stumbling as the young woman wrapped in the blue raincoat frantically attempts to reach the stoic cloaked wanderer. But once again the blurry silhouette completely ignores her.

"Wait, please- Don't leave me-aaah!" The poor exhausted girl screams as she accidentally stumbles upon a tree root that was previously concealed by a thick coating of mud and ends up landing painfully on the brown wet ground.

Blue eyes blinking rapidly trying to remove the falling rain from tired orbs tinted with immense despair. Lux dares to glance at the retreating figure of the Noxian warrior once more only to realize that Riven's form has all but disappeared behind a wall of overgrown plant life and spiked bushes.

The Demacian spy is in the middle of darting behind the Noxian deserter that had so surprisingly decided to drag her out of the hellish Zaunite chemical barrage that had instantly ended the war, when a sudden coughing fit painfully forces Lux back on her knees. The blonde light mage grimaces as she trembles and tosses about in the cold damp mud until the poor spy finally curls up into a ball and focuses on just breathing properly.

 ***Kaboom** , the sky crackles and flashes in anger. The sick Crownguard member closes her eyes and wraps her arm around her pitiful self, the weakened spy's clothes now utterly drenched in liquid dirt and cold freezing rainwater.

Coughing weakly while shaping her body like a tight bundle of trembling limbs seems to be the full extent of the light mage's current abilities right now. Luxanna jolts when another thunder startlingly booms over her head and echoes all around her.

"…"

Disoriented by the assault of the freezing rain and the sudden weakness that's overwhelming her body, the sickly Crowguard doesn't sense Riven approaching her before the soldier tentatively pokes at her side with an impatient foot.

"Get up." The Noxian deserter promptly commands the collapsed spy and when Luxanna proceeds to just stare at her the white-haired warrior angrily grabs the young spy by the coat and lifts her up until the stunned noble is standing on her weak, trembling legs. Mages and spell casters in general weren't known for their amazing stamina after all, even if their bodies weren't immensely weakened by the lack of rest and inhaling copious amounts of hazardous Zaunite toxins.

"Whatever remains from Ionia's army will be soon combing the land for rogue Noxian troops and suspicious foreigners that are fleeing from the front." The pale woman growls inches away from the face of a gulping Demacian girl, narrowed red eyes pinning the blonde aristocrat like sharp daggers eviscerate soft sinew. "So if you don't want to be tortured for information and then treated as a prisoner of war, you better start moving, spy." The Exile finishes and Lux can only nod in fright as the sick light mage attempts not to fall down again and further engage her moody savior.

"Y-yes, Ma'am." The feverish Crownguard croaks eliciting a displeased grunt from the albino swordswoman. Nevertheless, the Noxian deserter unceremoniously releases Lux's jacket and spins on her heel before marching onwards. The light mage manages to follow her for a few tense minutes at best before Lux collapses back on the ground in a heap of twitching, cramped muscles. Riven spares a heated glare at the shivering light mage and examines the blonde spy's feverish red visage for a long moment in silence. The stoic exile then heaves the barely lucid Demacian girl on her shoulder like a heavy sack and resumes her quiet marching.

Lux barely has the time to whisper a very faint, but certainly sincere _thank you_ against the pale swordswoman's battered armor before the blonde noble falls asleep in the arms of the scowling Noxian Exile. Riven grumbles and frowns and occasionally curses the sickly Demacian mage that's being nothing but a burden to her as she navigates the wet Ionian woods. And yet… for some unknown, mysterious reason the solitary deserter makes sure to walk under the trees when she can, and to keep one of her shoulders drier than the other.

Riven keeps telling herself that she is only doing this so the Demacian worm won't get sicker by the rainfall and be more of a burden to her during their grand escape… That's also the reason that Riven is holding the weakling so gently in her arms and keeps glancing at her feverish sleeping visage every few seconds. Why the pale swordswoman from Noxus stops after a while and lets the blonde mage rest in her lap, even wrapping the shivering unconscious Demacian spy in her own drenched traveling cloak.

"Don't die." The red-eyed Noxian deserter whispers as she carefully examines the face of the shivering blonde girl. The only answer the abandoned warrior receives is Lux shifting closer to her, whimpering softly in her sleep against Riven's bandaged torso.


	83. Fleeting meetings part 2

**Tags: Riven, Lux, Fantasy? Drama? Post Ionian War.  
**

* * *

Riven scowls under the reassuring cover of her weathered brown hood when the white-haired warrior notices another Noxian deserter boarding the ship. The man's facial features covered behind the remnants of a torn green rag that had been probably shredded from a dead man's uniform. A sea of wary and frightened gazes intently follow the limping form of the injured juggernaut of a man as the wounded soldier finds an empty space to collapse down to, one hand clenching his weapon in a death grip even as he attempts to rest his aching bones.

The white-haired albino spares the injured Noxian defector another cautious glance and then returns back to her babysitting duty. Red orbs slowly sinking down to the unconscious form of the sickly Demacian spy that's currently pressed against her frame. Luxanna's shivering form practically glued to her side as the younger noblewoman's hitched breaths keep tickling Riven's chin whenever Lux murmurs something unintelligible in her deep slumber.

 _Well, at least the Demacian weakling had ceased attempting to talk her head off,_ the former Noxian commander tries to somewhat lighten the mood, albeit without much success as it is inevitable. But then again, that might have been impossible in the first place, that's with a crowd of scared fugitives boarding this rotted sea-bucket away from their homes and the sight of the Ionian coast burning just behind them.

The mood hanging above the _Proud Prince_ was shrouded in misery and despair, the sobbing of young children and devastated widowed wives plashing over the calm waves of the emerald sea. No flags were flying defiantly from the mast of their depressingly old vessel. No good luck charms and Ionian trinkets were woven around the creaking wheel. A muddied piece of white cloth however had been precautiously tied into the bottom of a filthy twine that had been loosely attached around a hoop fitted outside the ship's crow nest. The makeshift surrender flag had been prepared before the Proud Prince had even left the bombed port. Not a good sign for either the mourning fugitives covered in their blankets and ruined coats nor the worn-down, cursing crew that was presently manning the rocking ship to the best of their inebriated abilities.

Riven sighs audibly under her brown hood, the snow-haired warrior's nostrils instantly overwhelmed by the scent of burnt flesh and human decay. The potent odor of war following the guilt-ridden defector even there, on this jumbled heap of salt-infused planks and rusted, nearly useless iron nails. The nauseating stench of fresh blood spilled over the previously fertile, but now utterly destroyed Ionian fields wafting over the waves reminding Riven of her terrible actions. The inhumane orders that she had carried out with the conviction of a zealot fighting a holy war.

So much innocent blood painting her clenched palms the same color as her pupils. So many screams and pleading voices filling her mind like a boiling cauldron, threatening to dribble out of her ears and nose at a moment's notice and cauterize her face with the scorching heat of her shame and guilt.

Fingernails bite into pale flesh, teeth sinking into dry lips. Crimson eyes closing momentary offering the discarded former Noxian commander a vision of acidic fumes and manmade meat grinders.

Why did she survive from that hell? Why not one of the peaceful farmers that she had been ordered to put down like mere cattle? Why not the child of the screaming widow preying to the skies above with desperate pained eyes and tears rolling down her cheeks?

The Demacian spy abruptly moving fitfully in her sleep is all that prevents the Noxian deserter from unwittingly voicing those thoughts in the mourning crowd of solemn immigrants. Sanguine orbs open once more taking in the sights of the tormented humanoid husks on the ship. Some of the passengers are tending to their wounds, some others are keeping a vigilant eye on their belonging, while a few of them appear to be sleeping on the hard wooden floor or searching for familiar faces into the crowd.

Riven sees the other Noxian defector once more. His mostly obscured visage a mask of uncertainty as he too observes the people around them with a rigid, yet defeated body posture. The hunched man's skull-decorated war axe set down atop the creaky floorboards of the run-down ship, his spiked armor bent and battered from what must have been tens to thousands of numerous brutal fights. There is a fleeting moment when the two Noxians' gazes meet and recognition glints behind the burly man's vibrant red irises. Those same red eyes pin Riven with an intensity that makes the former Noxian commander stiffen and press Lux tighter against her chest, bandaged fingers slowly coiling around the handle of her shatter runic blade.

The tense moment then passes, however, and the rigid Noxian general tentatively averts his scrutinizing gaze. The colossal man's avid attention quickly returning back to the fading spectacle of the burning island of Ionia and the black smoke that's rising above it.

Riven slightly relaxes finding some curious reassurance in the blonde light mage's weight comfortably settling down on her lap. Lux's low murmuring ghosting over her scarred cheekbone. The white-haired warrior keeps one hand wrapped around the sleeping Demacian spy's back and the other one close to her weapon just in case. Red eyes gazing intently into the bleeding sunset and the empty horizon as the small Ionian vessel slips over the salty water, sailing into the promise of a new, better tomorrow.

* * *

 **Writer's note: The long awaited cameo of the true protagonist of the story -Or at least that is what that suspicious individual keeps claiming to me.**

-Not a good sign for either the mourning fugitives covered in their blankets and ruined coats nor the worn-down, cursing crew that was presently manning the rocking ship to the best of their inebriated abilities

"Aye!" Suddenly bellows Captain Gmp as he abruptly burst out of his cabin. "Thee' seagulls are flying high today, they are! There is a storm a'proaching an' we have to appease the gods lest we sink down like Yasuo's winrate!" "You'ther, the hooded one! Start making out with the lass that's resting on top of you! VE be appeasing the gods by the means of an ancient Yuri ritual!"

When Riven just remains still, staring at the Captain incredulously, the old pirate starts waving his hooked arms irritably "Why u no suck face!" "You no care for all the children an' women that will die when the storm hits me vessel? Are you a monster, you blackhearted lass?! Quickly wet yo tongue with the love nectar of the blonde vixen lest the seas swallow us!"


	84. Vac21 An introduction to Cass x Vayne

**Tags: Vayne x Cassiopeia. Political marriage setting.**

* * *

The wind is playing with the foliages of the trees near the temple, some crickets are buzzing in the night without a care in the world. Vayne grunts, the Demacian huntress' pale visage currently scarier than any angry gargoyle's as Shauna keeps walking away from the obnoxious smirking priest next to the door. A few handfuls of the Night Hunter's shredded, white wedding dress nestled inside Vayne's rigid curled fingers.

"Stop walking so fast." An infuriating, snobbish voice rises over the symphony of the happy crickets and the mirthful antics of the soothing wind. Vayne just hastens her stride further at those words resulting in an irritated hiss to suddenly emanate from a few paces away from the brave noblewoman.

"You are making me ruin my wedding dress!" Venomously hisses again the brooding Night Hunter's bride and Shauna almost smiles in response until a cruel taloned hand abruptly wraps around the huntress' wrist and spins Vayne around. Shauna comes face to face with the very aggravated visage of her recently appointed Noxian sweetheart.

"Such audacity you have! Marching away like that the moment the ceremony is over! Just think of my image for a second before you start acting like an illiterate dolt, you hot-headed Demacian imbecile! Take a single moment to mull over the damage you are currently causing to both of _our_ reputations."

Vayne merely snorts at those words and attempts to continue her way. Perhaps the brooding huntress could disappear into the shadows of the night. Tear this stupid wedding dress to ribbons and then drown her sorrows in all the Noxian spirits that she could afford, until she blessingly passes out on the counter. The rather powerful, not to mention certainly bruising grip of her new wife unfortunately prevents Shauna from fleeing the scene, however. Cassiopeia's agitated glare promising a whole world of pain to Vayne if the brooding Night Hunter was either brave or foolish enough to ignore the redheaded lamia's demands.

"I am not happy with having to marry you for the sake of an ephemeral peace treaty between our nations either, Miss Vayne." Lowly hisses Cass through her teeth. "But mark my words, Vayne. Keep shaming me like this in public and not even your vampiric healing factor will help you against the poison that I will inject into your bloodstream tonight."

The noble huntress' ruby eyes narrow considerably as her Noxian bride simply keeps staring at her with a serious expression and a confident pose in complete silence. Cassiopeia's sharp, inhuman talons still clenching the Demacian woman's alabaster skin in a death grip. Vayne mentally curses Jarvan for at least the hundredth time in half an hour as she grudgingly forces her head to slightly lean down in a sign of mutual agreement.

Cassiopeia smiles at her charmingly the next moment. The red-haired lamia's full crimson lips curling in a victorious smirk, even as the serpentine woman's forked tongue briefly peeks out from between the two sanguine hilltops of the snake woman's' mouth.

The Noxian aristocrat's eyes remain cold and hostile however as the redheaded schemer's taloned hand lazily slides down across Vayne's exposed skin until Cassiopeia's inhuman arm is resting coyly pressed against that of the very unamused Night Hunter in a mostly unwelcomingly intimate way.

Vayne somehow manages to avoid shuddering at the unwanted contact as her new wife smilingly starts leading her back towards the crowded Noxian temple and the humanoid serpent's important guests.

Of course Shauna had no family to invite to this political joke of a wedding, and no other Demacia had bothered setting foot inside Noxus in order to witness her holy union with the treacherous Cassiopeia Du Couteau. Vayne grits her teeth as Swain approaches her near the door and proceeds to offer her his congratulatory wishes. Hollow pleasantries leak out of the devil's tongue even as Cassiopeia happily acknowledges the Grand General's empty words with a small curtsy and a saccharine smile perched on her face.

/

The walk to the Du Couteau manor takes far longer than Vayne wishes it to last. Especially since the moody Night Hunter has to tolerate the snake witch's presence. Cassiopeia's almost hypnotic slithering pace easily matching the quick and purposeful strides of the Demacian noblewoman walking down the street. The newly formed couple's tense arms still –regrettably, interwoven for the sake of nearby onlookers and gawking passersby.

The Noxian seductress seems to have a habit of flashing smiles left and right even if Shauna keeps moving hastily with all the form and subtlety of a berserker marching on the warpath. The skin around the serpentine woman's striking emerald orbs minutely creases in apparent displeasure.

"Is this how all Demacian aristocrats treat their wives, I wonder?" The scowling lamia seemingly voices out her innermost thoughts. "Charging ahead like mindless bulls while your lovers are forced to chase after you like classless plebeians? Are those truly the limits of your noble upbringing?"

Vayne snorts. "Lovers? Is that what we are now, Witch? All I see is a snake put in a wedding dress."

"And I perceive a bloodsucking monstrosity with no manners whatsoever. Stop taking advantage of my kindness and goodwill, Miss Shauna. Isn't it enough that we had to move the wedding ceremony to take place during the night so you wouldn't suffer unnecessary sunburns and the like? Sunburns that would have healed in mere seconds, mind you. I still bruise and bleed like a normal human being at the very least…"

"You also lisp like a pitiful snake and spit poison whenever you talk." Instantly replies the pale Demacian huntress with ire. "I have seen some humans doing the first one at times, but oddly enough I really doubt I have seen mortals doing the latter, at least in public so far."

"Is it really a smart idea to antagonize me when you will be staying with me and my siblings in Noxus, Miss Vayne? You are a long way from your country, Night Hunter. A Lot of things could happen to a Demacian woman in the heart of Noxus. Terrible and very unpleasant things I can assure you... So I would watch my tongue if I was in your shoes."

The sweet smile Cassiopeia sends her way makes Shauna's blood turn to ice water even if Vayne adopts a neutral, clearly unimpressed expression and maintains her hurried yet seemingly calm walking pace.

"Anything bad happens to me and the peace treaty with Demacia will be broken." The fair-skinned aristocrat states, but Cassiopeia simply shakes her head. The vile seductress' unnerving smile never once leaving the serpentine woman's lips as the cursed Noxian diplomat simply stares back at her dear bride sweetly.

"That might indeed seem so at first, but there is nobody monitoring your condition here from what I am aware of. You also heal fast, extremely fast if I may point out. No wound of yours will stay for long unless that's intended. Nobody will notice any injuries you were to receive unless they were the ones inflicting them in the first place."

Shauna remains silent after that, her crimson gaze locked on the unfamiliar road ahead. The seething huntress barely notices the panting photographer that's hastily approaching them.

Cassiopeia does however and the intelligent schemer pauses, posing next to Vayne before Shauna even has the chance to realize what's happening and react. The Noxian seductress leans in, the dangerous lamia's hot breath lingering against Vayne's drained cheekbone.

"Besides that, would you really break the treaty and unleash our dark magics and terrible necromancy to your unsuspecting countrymen?" The snake-woman lowly wonders over Vayne's frowning visage.

"I w-"

"Smile for the picture," The redheaded diplomat drawls charmingly as she presses a kiss on her wife's ivory cheek and the hextech camera flashes a blinding white the next moment.

The photographer smiles as he checks the picture he has just taken and raises an approving thumb. The Piltovian journalist is then about to leave, but the Serpent's Embrace beckons him to wait for a few seconds longer.

"Ohhh, please wait! You really surprised my wife, there! Give us one more chance to show the world our joy for this cherished union, pleeease."

Cassiopeia's childish whine seems to have the intended effect and the middle-aged bushy-mustached journalist instantly nods his head in content agreement and prepares his hex-tech devise for another shot.

Cassiopeia glances at him gratefully before her attention swifts back to her dear glaring wife.

"Come on, Shauna! Lets show our friends how happy we are today," The Serpent's Embrace innocently giggles as the snake woman's arms _casually_ wrap around the Demacia blueblood's shoulder blades pulling her closer to her. A knuckle hooks underneath Vayne's chin and turns the angry vampire's face towards that of the clever red-haired seductress.

Cassiopeia gazes mercilessly at Shauna, the serpentine woman's exotic irises borrowing into her unfortunate angry bride's sanguine orbs as the redhead moves her face closer, her voice lowering with her next words merely coming out as a faint whisper.

"Let's show the whole world that you are my bitch, Miss Vayne."

The taloned fingers behind Shauna's head abruptly dig into the noble vampire's scalp, concealed by the female Demacian's long midnight trenches they cut off Vayne's escape from the mocking _passionate_ kiss without the oblivious photographer noticing the violent action.

The two women's lips press together almost tenderly as the hex-tech device flashes brightly.

Cassiopeia examines the pale huntress' expression for a second before she releases her hostage as the happy photographer walks away and starts gathering his equipment whilst whistling a tune.

"You taste disgusting," The Noxian noblewoman hisses offhandedly when the mustached Piltovian man is out of hearing distance, and Vayne remains silent as she uses the back of her hand to wipe away Cassiopeia's saliva and poison from her bleeding abused lips.

"Then never kiss me again." The blooding vampire angrily growls after a while before Vayne continues walking towards her new hell. Her brand new prison, her new fake home, with the Serpent's Embrace leisurely slithering by her side.

"I don't intent to." The seething lamia retorts before charmingly smiling at another passerby and waving at them. "Why would I touch a disgusting bloodsucking monster?"

"For probably the same reason a woman wouldn't want to touch you with a ten foot pole."

"You are sleeping on the couch tonight."


	85. Vac22 Stargazing

**Summary: Diana is enjoying a serene moongazing session until a particular Star Guardian interrupts it.**

 **Tags: Leona, Diana, Lux, Jinx, Comedy.**

* * *

A light pleasant breeze is blowing across the deserted gardens of the Institute of War carrying with it the fragrance of the red rosebushes that have been planted around the numerous wooden benches and twisting pathways of the large area. The rosebushes lush green leaves wavering gently at the caressing of the gentle trickster wind, whispering quietly in the night.

Diana faintly smiles as she watches the full moon in the starry night sky, basking in its soothing argent radiance.

' _Could this moment be any more perfect?'_ The relaxed Scorn of the Moon absentmindedly wonders to herself. ' _No, of course not.'_ The young Lunari priestess instantly chastises herself for thinking otherwise as Diana's gaze reverently embraces the circular form of her beautiful pale goddess. The moment was simply perfect. Or well, it would have been in fact if it wasn't for the frilly pink skirt suddenly being shoved in front of the confused heretic's face. Diana frowns as she raises her head and locks eyes with the skirts unexpected owner.

"...Lux, what are you doing here so late?" The Lunari priestess slowly asks with the light mage's frilly skirt waving in front of her, tickling her nose. Lux cracks a grin in reply still seated on the back of the bench.

"It is 'Star Guardian Lux' now!" Giddily exclaims the other Institute mage. "And in the name of the stars I will punish you!" The bubbly blonde girl cheerfully continues.

Diana blinks owlishly at the excited light mage. "Punish me for what? I haven't done anything wrong. I am simply moongazing here."

The Lady of Luminosity frowns as she turns her body around and lowers herself to look at the pale warrior closely. Luxanna's hands cocked at her hips in an exaggerated upset manner that suits the Demacian noble surprisingly well for a woman her age.

"Are you certain that you haven't been sneaking a peek at my superiors here and there?" The blonde mage questions. "I will have you know that as a Star Guardian I will have to arrest you if you are perving on the stars without their exclusive permissions!"

"I only have eyes for my pale goddess." Diana honestly replies with an even tone and the pink-haired Demacian jumps off the bench's back before taking a seat right next to the solitary Lunari.

"I see." The newly appointed Star Guardian says with some disappointment coloring her voice. Luxanna busies herself with gazing at the night sky. A few moments pass by in silence until another familiar female figure hesitantly approaches the two mid lane mages.

"May I seat here with you?" Meekly asks Leona, the tall Targonian woman's golden armor glistering eerily under the soothing pale moonlight.

"Why are you here, leona?" Loudly wonders the perplexed Lady of Luminosity this time, and the Scorn of the Moon also nods her head in puzzled agreement.

"I'm waiting for my goddess to come out," Leona answers with a tired yet faint sigh escaping her lips. "And when she does come out, I will be pestering people about them occasionally staring at the Sun without my written approval."

"...Fine," Grudgingly concedes Luxanna in her whiny voice after a tense second and Diana mutters something nasty under her breath with a low snarl. "But don't go peeking at the stars while waiting for the Sun to come out! I will be watching you, young lady!" Warns the Star Guardian childishly.

"You aren't allowed to gaze at the moon either!" Hisses Diana as the Radiant Dawn takes a seat on the garden bench, adjacent to Lux.

"That is perfectly fine with me." The brunette Solari confidently states from her seat next to Luxanna. Leona then puts on a pair of painted sunglasses with a morning sky drawn on the inside of the lenses and starts staring at the miniature suns scribbled at the center of the lenses intently.

…

The three League champions share a quiet reprieve as they contently gaze at their respective preferred solar bodies.

"So what are you three looking at?" Jinx abruptly questions perched on the previously empty right end of the garden bench aligned with a pretty distracted Leona.

"I am moongazing." Diana sternly replies with an annoyed growl.

"I am trying to dig some dirt on my employers and blackmail them for a star power upgrade." Luxanna honestly admits after a little while.

"I'm just waiting for my Sun-preaching shift while fantasizing of Lux and Diana kissing." Absentmindedly replies Leona whilst humming to herself and blushing.

"I see!" Jinx quips with a conspirative grin, the twintailed Zaunite psychopath's legs excitedly swinging back and forth in front of the green grass blades, a pale tattooed arm hanging loosely around the tall Solari's armored shoulders in a friendly manner.

"Why are you here tonight, Jinx?" Lux questions after a short thoughtful pause. "You better not be ogling at the stars, you young rascal!" The light mage adds after a second as an afterthought while waving an accusing finger in front of Jinx's grinning face.

"Or at the moon for that matter." Diana quickly interrupts the warning of her fellow mid laner whilst pinning poor Jinx with cold stern eyes.

"You aren't permitted to stare at my goddess either, I'm afraid." Leona warns the Loose Cannon, the kind brunette's tanned face hidden behind her ridiculously painted morning sunglasses.

Jinx grumbles and pouts childishly at the three women's antics.

"Fine!" The Zaunite lunatic exclaims. "Then the three of you aren't allowed to stare at my explosions either! Na-ah! No, Sir! Close your eyes right now!" The psychopath then crosses her arms in front of her chest and plants her feet back on the ground having a tantrum.

"…What explosions?" Diana curiously questions after a few seconds tick by in silence while Jinx is pouting, utterly refusing to acknowledge that the three League champions next to her even exist in the same plane as her and Fishbones or Pow Pow.

A cluster of colorful yet silent explosions suddenly fills the night sky. The moon and the stars disappear forever right under the two wide-eyed blonde and silver-haired women's unbelieving and horrified eyes.

"Hey! That's not fair! You looked!" The Loose Cannon loudly whines from right next to a speechless Leona. "We four aren't friends anymore!'


	86. Sexism

**Summary: Ezreal is taking a stroll in the institute's hallways oblivious to the presence of a possible stalker(s). But justice always finds a way to right wrongs and beat both unkillable tanks and sexism. A humorous over-the-top oneshot.**

It was an impossibly cold winter night. A night so frigid, so terrible, so utterly freezing and pitch-black that even Lissandra, the Ice Witch of Freljord would ponder finding a blanket and sleeping next to the lit fireplace tonight. The wind was hollering, yelling hasagi against the cloudless night sky. The night sky would smash the mute button and proceed to write their report in response. The bizarre and wondrous residents of the Institute of War were currently asleep or passing their precious sparse free time by clasping their pillows against their chest and trying to fight off depression.

Nobody wanted to spend their lifetime dying and respawning indefinitely for reasons they couldn't even remember anymore, after all. Nobody except from Dr. Mundo that was a fucking masochist that is, or Karthus that thought of dying as simply a hobby.

And yet, even in this dark cold winter night a hooded figure can be seen loitering around aimlessly inside the Institute's abandoned hallways. That mysterious stranger's name was Ezreal and he had managed to get himself lost… yet again.

"Who needs a map?" The young blonde-haired thrill seeker keeps murmuring whilst gritting his teeth in apparent annoyance. Ezreal's footsteps echoing like the frantic pings of a desperate top laner in the relevant silence of the empty torchlit corridors of the Institute. And Ezreal is so distracted by the relentless yelling of hasagi against the windows that he doesn't notice the other mysterious figure that's been quietly following him for the last five minutes or so. Neither does he notice the irritating sound of clinking glass that's coming from the direction of his uber-stealthy pursuer.

It isn't long before the lost blonde-haired explorer's luck change, however, and Ezreal finds another person roaming alone in the eerie abandoned corridors of the great building. The Prodigal Explorer puts a small pleasant smile on his lips as he hastily approaches Riven, the Exile.

"Hey there, Riv! I'm kind of lost. Could you please show me the direction to the nearest museum?" Ezreal greets Riven.

The exiled Noxian warrior instantly freezes in her tracks when Ezreal calls out her name.

"Socializing! Human contact! My angst is fading! Gotta escape right now!" Screams Riven is sheer terror and just like that with a frightened dash and a hop and another two jumps and then another dash and a wall flash out of the third-floor window, the mighty Exile quickly disappears. And a vibrant red splatter appears instead on the pavement outside…

"Reported!" Screams the furious wind that's blowing over the Exile's motionless body.

"Noxians, I hate those guys.." Ezreal mutters as he wipes the kind smile from his face now that there isn't a pretty woman around him to impress. Ez then spits on the ground where Riven previously stood for good measure. The Prodigal Explorer then scratches his head and decides to keep wandering around aimlessly.

"Who needs a map?" The handsome blonde mid laner grumbles to himself while stepping into another seemingly deserted hallway.

"Kukukuku." Singed laughs maliciously from his hiding place a few paces behind the oblivious blonde marksman. "That's right, Riven. Run! Ezzy is mine you foolish harlot!"

"Not so fast you vile, evil, unfashionable man!" Pop star Ahri abruptly exclaims from somewhere next to the Zaunite alchemist. "Ezreal is going to be my boyfriend and there is nothing you can do to change that!"

Singed's eyes narrow dangerously upon hearing that determined statement coming from the Nine-Tailed fox that isn't a ninja yet, just a mage.

"Oh, it's on!" The mad Zaunite snarls in complete outrage and in one quick motion Singed grabs the giant poison bottle from his back by the neck and shatters it against the wall before pointing it threateningly at Ahri. "Fight me, Naruto!"

The fox Vastayan hisses at him and creates her fancy chakra ball that totally isn't a chakra ball because Ahri isn't a stolen character. Ahri then adopts a fighting stance much like a boxer and slowly extends a balled fist towards the angry Mad Chemist.

"Do you see this fist?! Oi, I say, do you see THIS fist, you unfashionable stinking plebe?!" The Nine-Tailed Fox furiously screams at the furious furry-hater. Singed just growls at her, but shakes his head in affirmation. That's when the cunning vixen from Ionian socks Singed in the eye with one of her seven tails.

"Ow! What the fuck, you bitch?!" Singed yells in pain and surprise as he clutches at the right side of his face and attempts to blink away the blurriness of his tears. That's when Ahri's second tail-swing catches the Mad Chemist in the groin. And as we all know, you need to have some big stones (or nether lips) to play Singed in the current meta… Needless to say the Mad Chemist instantly collapses on the ground nursing his genitals while howling in pure agony.

"What's happening here!" Both Lux and Garen loudly question in alarm as they burst out of a nearby plot hole. The Lady of Luminosity is dressed in her Star Guardian costume while Garen is masqueraded as a giant bush. The two siblings' eyes widen in shock when they witness Ahri in a fighting stance and Singed whimpering on the ground while clutching his bruised gems.

"I… I.. Well, the answer is really simple you see! Singed and I… We were just…" Ahri struggles to come up with an excuse only for Luxanna and Garen to abruptly gasp in apparent horror.

"Singed is a filthy male whereas Ahri is a woman, so Singed must have attacked Ahri first in this dark spooky corridor and Ahri was then forced to defend herself!" The blonde light mage mutters aloud as if in thought.

Almost instantly Garen nods his head in agreement. "I don't want to risk appearing sexist, and my popularity to experienced League players is already down in the dumps so I'm just going to agree with you on that one, Sister!" The Huge juggernaut reveals, eliciting an innocent and proud smile from his younger blonde sibling.

"That is probably the case anyways," Luxanna practically beams at her older brother " So let's beat up this sexist, human trash without trying to find out more about the current situation!" The two Demacian siblings then proceed to beat up Singed in front of a very shocked and confused Ahri.

"Take that, you filthy pig! That's for trying to sexually assault my slutty friend!" Screams the angry Lady of Luminosity while bashing the sobbing Mad Chemist's head in with the help of her trusty light baton.

"Being sexist is wrong, Demacia!" Agrees Garen while kicking Singed in the ribs.

"This is for possibly stalking women in the dark, and that's for just being bald and creepy!" Luxanna's light baton keeps descending upon the unfortunate Zaunite man.

"This is for having more depth in your short lore than the extensive bios of my entire royal house!" Garen keeps kicking poor Singed, before the Demacian soldier pauses, takes out his sword and then proceeds to beat the crying Zaunite chemist with the flat side of his enormous blade.

"You psycho, you baldy, you animal. I'm pretty sure your momma never loved you!" Screams Lux.

"Your kit is also more entertaining than my own so I am going to break your bones!" Promises Garen.

"I just don't like your face, and I haven't even seen it yet because you always cover it with bandages and torn rags! Ahh! That makes me sooo angry! Juuustice suplex!" Exclaims the childishly pouting light mage.

"PLEASE STOP!" Finally screams Ahri as the previously stunned Nine-Tailed Fox dashes to Singed's side unable to remain silent after witnessing the two Demacians' brutal assault against the Mad Chemist. "Singed is an innocent, even though he was behind the chemical bombardment attacks in Ionia that claimed thousands of lives! He isn't a sexist or a misogynistic pig! He is just a psychopathic madman!"

Garen and Lux freeze on the spot after hearing Ahri's heartfelt confession. Luxanna's gaze moves down to Singed that's barely breathing on the floor, the light mage's once pristine magical baton now stained with blood, tears and the Zaunite man's urine. Nearly simultaneously, Garen's stare also wanders towards the wheezing form of his dying foe. The Might of Demacia's arms around Singed's throat loosen letting the wounded Zaunite scientist choke out a few droplets of warm crimson liquid.

"W-why?" Singed all but whispers before passing out and both Demacian siblings avert their eyes in shame only for their sorrowful gazes to stumble upon a deathly pale, horrified Ahri.

"Garen, we unprovokingly attacked an innocent mass murderer today." Lux states solemnly as the blonde light mage's hard glare is now aimed solely at the black-haired Vastayan. "This villainous woman deceived us in order to avoid justice!"

The giant of a man merely nods once more, his colossal bloodied blade still dripping with the Mad Chemist's blood vengeful pointing towards the accused vixen.

"How dare she, Sister! It is our sacred duty as Demacian paragons of hope and virt- JUSTICE! To punish the damned deceiving fox for her crimes!"

Luxanna smiles at that, gore-coated light baton also turned towards the stunned Vastayan seductress. "Yes, big brother!" The still smiling Lady of Luminosity lowly whispers as she unleashes a barrage of magic at the fleeing Nine-Tailed Fox. "Let's be the heroes of Valoran once more and punish the hideous villain!"

The three champions then proceed to run away from the cold corpse of Singed, chasing each other into the frigid night.

Meanwhile hovering over Singed, Kalista pauses, spares a quick glance at the dead alchemist's mutilated corpse and then shrugs before walking away. Some support-slaves were not worth saving after all.

Somewhere in the background Ezreal is still searching for the Mess Hall to have breakfast while singing a familiar tune.

"Legends never dieee.."

 **Notes: The only one that truly believes fully in equality is Kled because he hates everyone equally.**


	87. Omega Squad 5

**Summary: Garen and Lux go to the movies to watch the newest action flick Bandle City has to offer. Omega Squad 5, the Ionian Cartel. Rated M for depictions of gore, violence and generally yordles being yordles..**

* * *

"Stop dillydallying, brother. The movie is starting!" Luxanna Crownguard, the usually bubbly and talkative Lady of Luminosity can barely contain her excitement as she picks a seat around the middle of the crowded movie theater room and tosses a few popcorn into her mouth.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Garen rushes to reply, the Demacian juggernaut panting and wheezing from a few rows of seats above as the gargantuan warrior attempts to navigate the narrow pathways between the comfy red chairs and Luxanna's current position. Shushing and annoyed glares being flung towards the poor guy from every direction, the music of the opening titles already audible from the dark room's speakers.

"I can't understand why you would choose to watch this movie instead of 'Demacia 3, the Reckoning…" Finally huffs Garen whilst seating next to his sister and proceeding to wipe the sweat off his glistering brows. Sometimes he really wondered why he kept wearing his armor outside of the Rift, but then Garen always dismissed such thoughts. After all, Noxian scumbags could be hiding anywhere. Underneath his cushion for example or behind the big bright screen, between the seat rows, the innocent civilians or behind the irritable guy behind him that kept yelling at him to hunch so he could actually watch the movie. A hard glare later by the huge juggernaut and that last distraction frantically flees the building. The Noxian spies were getting wimpier and wimpier in Garen's opinion.

"Because I don't want to watch King Jarvan's latest trash-fest about honor, virtue and people screaming 'Demaciaaa!' every couple of seconds! I want to watch a normal action flick for once that doesn't involve the fleeting concept of justice."

"Well, we could always see-" Garen opens his mouth with a quick retort, but Lux is already shaking her head at him knowingly.

"Nope, I'm not watching 'The Night Hunter Rising' either. I have already seen it and I am currently waiting for the sequel. Now shush, Gar."

The Demacian warrior pouts, but complies with his younger sister's wishes once more. The brave soldier's eyes grudgingly move towards the shifting titles.

' _A Bandle City Studios' Production'_ announces a blooming tulip in the midst of a gory battlefield, small letters somehow etched against the flower's fragile petals.

' _Teemo Mushroom'_ Declares another caption as the tulip is torn away by a sudden and violent explosion.

' _Caitlyn Remington'_ The flower petals landing against the corpses of numerous human husks.

' _Shauna Vayne'_ The scattered petals quickly dissolve into nothingness.

Garen blinks after spotting the name of one of his colleagues in the titles of the fifth Omega Squad movie, but absentmindedly brushes it off upon pondering that perhaps that had something to do with this diversity thing that the Might of Demacia kept hearing about.

' _Directed by Steven Spellburger'_ The camera is then turned towards a depressing grey sky.

' _Written by Kled Affleck'_ The camera moves only to show that the sky is in fact a burnt battlefield that was bombed into misty smithereens.

' _Produced by Ziggs 'Tiny' Dynamite'_ The last display is that of smoke rising from the shattered earth below. The screen then turns dark with a dramatic sound.

0000

There is a small nondescript village located at a rural area near a large green forest. Rickety huts and dusty old building constitute the majority of this rundown settlement, plumes of lazy grey smoke sluggishly escaping from the village's pathetic chimneys. The scene is one that talks of inaction, dullness and normalcy at first glance, the undertones of the music score also tepid, nearly nonexistent.

Contrary to popular belief, however, the residents of the small rural village aren't asleep behind cold window panes and weathered from the elements wooden shutters. The residents' boots aren't set by the side of their beds and house entrances, gardening and farming tools resting inside the tiny tool sheds built in their back gardens. It was actually humorous really, that what should for all intents and purposes been nothing more than another boring village made up of sheep shepherds, animal breeders and farmers apparently lacked people knowledgeable in those tasks. Then again, such a thing should have perhaps been quite obvious to the casual observer especially after spotting the majority of the farmers moving with such amazingly odd discipline, their footsteps so purposeful and certain as the residents gathered around the village's square.

And if one were to just take the time to more closely observe the tanned stoic faces of those peculiar shepherds and cultivators, they would discover the rage boiling behind their determined razor-sharp eyes. And if perhaps one were to strain their ears they might recognize the telling clinking of military hardware hidden in the faded folds of their oddly pristine, civilian clothes.

The disguised soldiers grumble and conceal a few yawns as they gather around the cages placed at the very center of the village's square. Cold eyes shooting the cage's occupants hateful glares, others merely ignoring them as they go about doing their businesses. Only few of the soldiers present actually pause to survey the neglected prisoners staring at them from between the rusted iron bard and even fewer pay attention to their sunken pleading eyes and haggard dirt-coated faces. Yordles weren't considered as living individuals at that lawless part of Ionia after all, but merely goods that could readily be exchanged for some easy coin with the Zaunite scientists or be sold as exotic pets for the rich folk of Piltover. And now that the Invasion of Ionia by Noxus had officially ended and the deserters of both armies were striving to find their own place in this crooked and sad world, the Yordle and Vastayan slave trading business was blooming as never before.

The sleepy murmurs and clumsy waves of the heinous slave traders are cut off in an instant as the imposing silhouette of a middle-aged man slowly emerges from one of the filthy derelict buildings. The man's face is partially hidden by a short brown beard that also hides a few of his less grievous scars, the dark green beret perched on his head instantly appointing him as somebody important.

The men guarding the yordle cages stiffen and correct their relaxed postures at once, some of them tightening their grips around their guns and rifles, as if that would actually help them in case they were to incur the wrath of the villainous man. Gangplank blatantly ignores them as he fixedly stares at the precious cargo cowering inside the miniature cells, a cruel smile dancing on his lips upon locking eyes with a particularly startled emaciated yordle.

"Yer feeling like bein' a hero, little man?" The cruel commander challenges with a timbre as hard as steel and the black-hearted ruffian merely snorts in disgust when the scared yordle retreats farther into its tiny cage.

"Bah!" Gangplank makes a sound between amusement and disgust before turning around to face his men. "Prepare the shipment for transport, boys. The Zaunite vessel will be at the port in ah' couple of hours or so."

Quick nods and frightful salutes are thrown around as the heinous yordle traffickers start checking their weapons for damage and packing supplies for the short trip to the port. Scarred men and women hardened in the despicable fires of a meaningless war rounding up the yordles with grim apathetic visages and harsh shoves at their backs, tying the short creatures' wrists with bloodstained ropes with threats of violence. The whole ordeal doesn't take long and a few moments later a soldier approaches Gangplank with the nervous swift strides of a man forced to do something he would clearly rather not.

"The goods are ready for transporting, Commander!" The man salutes and the heinous leader of the smugglers merely grants in acknowledgement while checking the magazine of his modified pistol.

"Then why are ya wasting my time instead of sending the yordles on a march, eh?"

The frightened soldier quickly bows down his head in apology. "I'm sorry, Sir! Right away, Sir!" The deathly pale man hastily replies before his brains are scattered across the village's square in a nearly silent explosion of blood and gore. It takes all but a second for the villainous slave traders to realize what's happening. To ask themselves why the Commander's gun isn't visibly smoking.

"Intruders!" Some of the traffickers yell as they dive to the ground or search for cover behind their rundown shacks. Silent gunshots claiming lives even as the alarmed bandits cock their pistols and slam full magazines into their rifles, all the while attempting to identify the location of the concealed sniper.

/

"Target at eleven o'clock. Right behind the yordle cage." Utters the short camouflaged man, his high-pitched voice slightly reverberating inside his hi-tech helmet.

The only reply the short yordle receives is the crack of a muffled gunshot from right next to him. Caitlyn pauses, pulls back the bolt of her sniper rifle in order to release the spent cartridge and then lets it slide back in its place alongside another intact round.

"Target neutralized." The brunette sniper informs her spotter in a calm neutral tone.

"Another one's on the window of the third building on your right. Second floor." The sniper rifle cracks once more and a soldier's head explodes, his body collapsing next to the prone form of his panicked comrade. Caitlyn gets rid of the second trafficker before the frightened slaver has the time to get up and jump off the balcony.

"We have been spotted!" Teemo informs Caitlyn seconds before the two's position is abruptly pelted by a barrage of ricocheting bullets. Twigs and leaves rain down on the two Squad members as Caitlyn and Teemo begin crawling behind a bluff for cover.

"The distraction was successful, Alpha Squad. Initiate protocol Battering Ram while we circle around the settlement and regroup with you when we lose our tails."

There is an unsettling silence in the comms, the ringing of gunshots and loud yelling the only noises engulfing the once quiet settlement. Rapid footsteps and human screams echoing from behind the nearby tree line when a group of unfortunate smugglers accidentally stumble upon Teemo's and Caitlyn's respective traps.

"Alpha Squad, do you read me?" Caitlyn and Teemo remain visibly unaffected when another enemy soldier steps on a hidden mine dooming the already wounded soldiers that were sobbing around him in pain. The ensuing explosion scatters more blood and bone fragments around the stained tree barks.

"Loud and clear, Omega Squad." A high-pitched cheery voice then crackles from the radio. "The Battering Ram is already on the way."

Teemo smirks behind the cover of his helmet. The short furry man dexterously reloading his blowgun while hastily glancing at the bloody remains of his fallen enemies. "Copy that, Alpha Squad. Let's get this show on the road!"

Caitlyn spares the short spotter a sideway glance before sighing and also reloading her sniper rifle.

"I miss being partners with Vi…" The former Sheriff bitterly mutters.

/

"They are trapped behind the tree line! Pin them down! Don't let them escape!" Gangplank bellows at the top of his lungs as he slides another magazine into his empty pistol and fires another quick shot against the splintering tree barks.

The slavers seem content in doing just that, screaming threats and obscenities while unloading their entire magazines against the general direction of the trees and the forest. A few poorly thrown grenades, courtesy of their loyal Zaunite customers being reckless launched towards the small thicket, spraying the hills down below with patches of torn soil and chipped pieces of wood.

"Cease fire! That's enough, boys!" Gangplank voice rises over the cacophony of discharging weapons and splintering tree barks when no signs of life appear from behind the ruined thicket after the last grenade explosion. "Ammo ain't cheap and there is no use wasting it on ah' couple fresh corpses. Somebody go check on their bodies, and finish them off if they are still alive."

A few soldiers nod, holster their rifles and are about to follow the cruel man's orders when the rundown wall of a wooden house behind the bandits suddenly shatters. Through the rain of wooden splinters and the rattling of falling gun cases hitting the floor the slavers are treated with the most bizarre sight of their lives. A bald man as tall and wide as a mountain equipped with a bulletproof shied akin to a metal door is hastily charging at them behind the clattering debris, the bandits' bullets harmlessly bouncing off his colossal shield.

The men then notice the two lunatics hiding behind the enormous man and take note of their crazy and utterly unnerving smiles.

"Blast 'em!" Bellows Tristana from her perch on Braum's left shoulder pad while firing her deadly shots above the great metal barrier. Her weapon's explosive ammo already wreaking havoc on the unlawful residents of the small rural village.

"Aim, then shoot, Aim, then shoot." Endlessly mumbles Twitch as he sprays magazine after magazine of corrosive bullets against the window panes and dirty walls of the old buildings located around the village's little square. Screams of pure agony emanating from the gaping mouths of his unlucky victims whenever one of the Plague Rat's numerous shots actually hits an enemy soldier.

"Just who the hell are these guys!" Snarls Gangplank with hate thick in his tone when he and his merry band of wrongdoers are forced to go on the defensive once more, diving behind bullet-riddled tool shacks, garbage bins or racing towards silent, seemingly deserted houses alike.

"Battering Ram's breached the _Castle_." States Braum as he shield-bashes one of Gangplank's men and then presses a button on the back of his shield, coating the giant moving barrier with lashing tongues of flickering electricity.

"Roger that, Alpha Squad. Sharp-eye and I are booby-trapping the enemy's escape routes before regrouping. ETA, three minutes at most. Keep them busy, soldier."

Braum rams into an unfortunate slaver with his tazer-shield, electrocuting the heinous man to unconsciousness before his body is even knocked airborne. The giant Freljordian then continues his stoic march towards the yordle cages. Meanwhile Twitch and Tristana are having the time of their lives bombarding the enemy forces with a barrage of explosive shots, bullets, acid, grenades and harsh taunts in what could only be categorized as legit _Crazytalk_.

" _I hear you're trash! Bow before your king!" *Bang *Bang *Bang_

 _"Winners don't duck!" *Loud explosion*_

 _"Stand still! My eyes are on the side of my head!" *Rat-ta-ta-ta!_

 _"I dare you to dare me!" *Launched missile sound*_

 _*Bang "Ohoho, that's gonna fester!"_

The huge Freljordian pauses, rolls his eyes at the bizarre spectacle taking place before him and then sighs against his microphone.

"That actually won't be a problem, Sir…"

"Enough!" Gangplank screams in complete outrage as he fires a few more shots at Braum and his obviously insane companions. "This farce ends now!' The fierce slaver declares whilst grabbing a detonator from his coat's pocket. His thumb then descends on the bright red button and Braum has only enough time to throw Tristana and Twitch away from the rigged barrels hidden half-way underneath the dirt before the enormous Freljordian Juggernaut is engulfed in a sea of shrapnel and roaring fire.

The whole village quakes due to the mighty explosion, screams of pain and surprise flooding Omega Squad's communication channel as Caitlyn and Teemo rush towards their screaming comrades.

/

When Teemo and Caitlyn arrive at the scene the battlefield looks like the aftermath of a meteor shower. Limbs burnt and twisted are scattered across the village's square, blackened dead bodies splayed alongside the burning buildings' walls like grotesque flowerbeds waiting to be watered. The iron yordle cages and the tiny furry creatures that were once trapped within them have all but disappeared now. Caitlyn's breath hitches in her throat when the battle-hardened sniper and newest member of the two yordle squads spots a malformed hunk of metal sticking out from amongst the piles of charred flesh. Braum's broken shield being distinguishable even now when it is less than half its initial size and scorching hot from the hungry fires of the blazing explosion.

Teemo remains still as if petrified on his two legs, the Swift Scout's expression hidden under the grim visage of his combat helmet. Wide unbelieving eyes obscured by the advanced optics of the same reinforced mask-helmet.

"Twitch! Twitch, can you hear me! You need to hang in there, buddy! Help's on the way!" Tristana's voice somehow filters between the haze of Teemo's anger, loss and immense bloodlust.

 _No it is not._ The masked yordle's brain reminds him. Cold optics move to take in the sight of Tristana kneeling before another dying member of the original Omega Squad. Twitch's face has partially melted off, his gas mask is missing. The hot air of the explosion has probably burnt the inside of the big rodent's lungs too, judging by Twitch's desperate choking. Caitlyn is at once by Tristana' side, hastily kneeling next to Twitch, examining the extent of the Plague Rat's wounds even as those same wounds are without a doubt visibly lethal.

"Heh, heh, heh. Just look at that. Yordles and humans working together for a common cause. You guys sicken me, you do! Argh!" A gruff pained voice all but croaks out from the nearest pile of dead bodies, the one that was the furthest away from the epicenter of the violent explosion. Gangplank pushes away the charred bodies of his comrades in order to reveal a grinning bloodstained face, the atrocious Commander's trusty pistol still held on a scorched, burnt hand, the other one being busy clutching at a wound in his stomach. Caitlyn's rifle is aimed at the enemy Commander's head at once. Tristana chokes back a sob when Twitch loudly expires with a few dry wheezes and a muffled croak.

"I guess you won, either way, yer' furry rats." Gangplank continues as he spits a mouthful of blood at the corpses of his former men and then tosses away his empty pistol. "Come on then, heroes. Take me in for questioning. Put me on a trial now that there is nobody left to testify against me! My lawyers will be more than happy to deal with you stinking-"

There are sounds all around the burning battlefield. Caitlyn's swift footsteps as she approaches the grinning bearded man with a pair of handcuffs held in her shaking hand, Tristana's sobbing as she clutches Twitch's body against her chest and wails towards the smoky sky. The crackling of burning wood and the sizzling of fire whenever the rampant flames meet the puddles of spilt lifeblood pooling across the settlement's square.

Funnily enough Teemo can't hear a thing as he points the barrel of his blowgun at the smug face of the grinning smuggler and then lowers it, shooting Gangplank right in the liver. The sound of Gangplank' body hitting the ground is deafening, however. Even more so than Caitlyn yelling for the scout to stop as Teemo continues shooting at the screaming leader of the slavers again and again, until the brunette sniper finally manages to reach him and take away his weapon.

"WHY WOULD YOU FUCKING DO THAT!?" Screams the Piltovian sharpshooter as she glares at the silent yordle in anger.

Caitlyn slaps Teemo, the yordle's mask torn from his head by the sheer force of the markswoman's slap in combination with the awkward angle of the unexpected blow. Faded sky blue eyes meeting those of the former Sheriff, staring into Caitlyn's brown ones even as tears keep cascading down Teemo's emotionless furry visage.

"Because he killed my friends," Teemo simply answers in a soft hollow voice that's in utterly contrast to the flood of tears running down his little fuzzy cheekbones. "He killed my friends, so I killed him. It is that simple."

The Piltovian woman's anger is instantly washed away and Caitlyn can only watch in guilty silence as Teemo silently retrieves his helmet and then walks towards Tristana and Twitch. Moments before he reaches them, Caitlyn grabs the scout's left arm and spins him pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Braum and Twitch were also my friends, Teemo." The brunette woman whispers amidst the crackling of burning houses and ashen dreams. "Don't think for a second that I would have let that man go after what he did to them."

The emotionless spotter slowly swallows.

"Then why aren't you angry?" Teemo whispers against the brunette sharpshooter's chest. "Why didn't you shoot him first before I could, why don't you want to make him suffer like I do!"

"Because that's not who I'm, Teemo." Caitlyn softly replies at the furious yordle. "And deep down inside I know that that isn't who you are either, even if you do make me doubt it sometimes."

Teemo remains silent however, and Caitlyn sighs giving the shoulder of her comrade one last squeeze before releasing him to appease Tristana. The scout remains still even then, standing amongst the corpses of both his friends and treacherous foes. Two furry hands clutching at his helmet, sky blue pupils reflecting the fire of the bombed village square. Ears ringing with the thunders of a thousand explosions. Of his friends' death cries.

 _"The war never ends, the battlefield just changes."_ Teemo's voice narrates even as the Swift Scout himself doesn't talk and just stares off at the flames burning the secluded rural village as if deeply in thought. Caitlyn and Tristana being nothing more than blurry silhouettes somewhere in the background.

" _Reinforcements ain't comin'."_ A furry hand touches a button and Teemo's body starts merging with the rest of the battlefield, seemingly disappearing from existence.

A few minutes later, Caitlyn has finally managed to calm down Tristana and raises her head in order to search for her second remaining comrade with her eyes, only to notice her partner's sudden absence.

 _"I've done things I'm not proud of."_ Teemo's voice continues as the camera moves farther and farther away from Tristana and Caitlyn and the burning sea of corpses.

 _"You'd be surprised how quick fur ignites."_ As if on cue a burning building collapses from the fire near the village's edge.

 _"Tall folk don't last long round here."_ The camera catches the glimmer of Braum's shattered shield.

 _"Survival ain't pretty."_ We catch a glimpse of Caitlyn dragging Tristana away from Twitch's corpse with hot tears running down the kind brunette's visage when Tris refuses to abandon Twitch and attempts to return back to the side of her dead comrade.

 _"I used to live by a code."_ The invisible yordle mutters to itself and for a second we are treated to an image of another occupied slaver settlement and soldiers armed with Zaunite guns and riffles. The image then flickers showing the same settlement but riddled with the yordle traffickers' dismantled dead bodies.

" _Nobody's innocent anymore."_ Teemo grows as the scene of the first burning village slowly disappears and the End Credits start rolling down.

 _/_

"Wow!" Luxanna Crownguard breathlessly exclaims as she finally relaxes in her seat. "That was awesome! The movie is probably going to get an Ornnscar, right brother?"

Garen merely turns his face away from his sister trying to hide the tears welling up in his misty eyes. "It was alright, I guess… Not as cool as Demacia or swords and justice, but decent, just decent enough to be watchable." The Might of Demacia sniffles faintly.

"Mhmm.." Lux hums mischievously while smiling knowingly as she hands Garen a clean handkerchief and politely looks away from her easily moved sibling.

"Where was Vayne, though? Wasn't she in the movie's credits?" Garen asks while wiping a few tears off his eyes. More to change the subject of the ongoing conversation with his sister about him liking something that wasn't made in Demacia and less because he was actually interested in Luxanna's answer.

"Trying to catch me on camera is like boxing with shadows.." A feminine voice lowly whispers against Garen's ear making the huge Juggernaut yelp and fall from his cushion.

"Sword-dammit, Vayne!" Garen bellows from the ground.

* * *

 **Writer's notes: I suddenly wanted to write something packed with action like an action movie and that's how this oneshot started. On one hand I am disappointed because I had to repeat the word 'explosion' so much. But then I remind myself that action war movies are just a cluster of splintering wood, explosions, tossed grenades and missed bullets and I feel a little better. It also helps that Ziggs was the producer, or at least that's my best excuse.**

 **I had a lot of fun writing this oneshot and there were so many endings and extra scenes that I initially thought of including before the story started tiring me out and I had to axe it. Some examples:**

 **Teemo and company save the yordles or at least one of the yordle children survives Gangplank's trap. Teemo handles the kid a pistol and tells his to punish Gp for the death of his mother, telling the child to find justice by itself and that there were no heroes in this world to do it in its place. The screen goes black and then we hear a single gunshot. Later on, Caitlyn is talking about the fate of the rescued yordle children and wondering about which orphanage they will be sent to. Teemo replies that those aren't orphans, but new recruits for Omega Squad and that the child that shot Gangplank is his very promising protégé.**

 **Or: The movie ends and Garen is giddy about how awesome the movie was. He turns toward Lux to voice his thoughts only to find Omega Squad Teemo pretending to be his sister with a blonde wig placed above his helmet. "Target acquired," Teemo mutters as a black hood is placed on Garen's head before the Demacian can react and the military yordles' kidnap him for unknown reasons.**

 **Or: The same thing happens and when Garen turns to face his sister he hears her yelling "Eww! You're not Ezzy!" Teemo wore a blonde wig and pretended to be Ezreal in the dark in order to make out with Lux while Garen was watching the movie.**

 **Or: After Garen watches the movie and the hellish battlefields that Teemo 'has definetly' fought in, he forgets his hate for the yordle he is sick and tired of encountering at top lane and goes to hug a very confused and startled Teemo. A beautiful friendship is born.  
**

 **...And then Teemo stabs him. Well, maybe.**


	88. Petunia

**Summary: When people think of the tragedies that occurred during the invasion of Ionia by Noxus they think of unarmed villagers and proud soldiers perishing in Singed's bombings. Nobody ever remembers the loyal mascot of the deceased Fury Company. Nobody remembers of the brave poro that fought and died alongside a certain female Noxian commander.**

 **Warning: Poro deaths and tragedy.**

* * *

"Petunia.." Riven whispers with the taste of blood filling her mouth and the explosions of the Zaunite melters smothering her voice. The young Poro whimpers as it approaches its dying owner, the tiny white creature's wide sky blue eyes wet and overflowing with childish tears.

A giant canister filled with acid abruptly falls from the dark clouded sky and promptly annihilates at least a couple more fleeing Noxian soldiers.

"P-Petunia." The white-haired Noxian tries to utter again as the poisonous fumes slowly corrode Riven's insides. The injured Noxian Commander then coughs a few droplets of warm scarlet blood causing the little Poro to whimper even louder. Riven attempts to smile through her pain as she uses her only remaining hand to stroke the head of the tiny crying being, and she then pauses when she notices that she is only spreading more blood and soot on the alabaster fur of the unlikely mascot of the doomed Fury Company.

A great explosion suddenly shatters the ground mere meters away from the two unlikely comrades and the screams of the dying soldiers abruptly rise in a terrifying crescendo.

"R-run…" Mutters the Noxian Commander and the little Poro shakes its head in determined refusal.

Another barrage of Zaunite bombs fills the already toxic air around them with even more deadly chemicals and Riven grits her teeth as she uses the frail bloodied fingers of her sole hand to push away the whimpering mass of fur that's staring at her in clear confusion. The small Poro gasps at the violent behavior of its usually affectionate owner, but it then reluctantly approaches the coughing swordswoman once more when it suddenly realizes that the soldier is in pain. A trembling burnt hand gives the startled Poro another weak shove as the cloud of venom starts engulfing the two unlikely survivors.

"R-run away you stupid furball! J-just run…"

The sudden yell almost tears Riven's vocal cords, the coughing fit causes the wounded swordswoman's eyes to blur with new tears. A tiny wet tongue starts licking the dying soldier's bloody face when the white-haired warrior somewhat lifts her face from the mud. Two rows of miniature teeth bite at Riven's dirty torn sleeve and attempt to drag the injured swordswoman away from the green toxins and the loud thunderous noises.

It is ridiculous, it is futile. Riven weakly draws her arm away from her teary-eyed beloved pet, the green gasses already swirling around her bloodied and broken body.

"L-le-ave me alone!" Yells the poisoned Commander with a voice that fades in the chaos of the descending bombs. "Why won't you just abandon me like my co-untry and my parents!" More blood trickles down the chin of the dying Noxian.

The little white ball of fur instantly starts sobbing, both shocked and confused by the harsh tone of its owner's voice. The tiny Poro had eaten all of its food and practiced its battle cry like it owed to. It was determined to do its best and make Riven proud the next time someone needed to rally the Fury Company! Petunia would boost the morale of the soldiers with her mighty roar and protect the kind white-haired swordswoman like Riven had protected her so many years ago, when the warrior had found the Poro starving in those filthy underground fighting kennels.

"R-r-r-r-u.. n" Breathes out the bleeding soldier as her eyes slowly close and the small creature opens its tiny mouth to show Riven its new battle cry, but the only thing that comes out is a faint and trembling whimper.

Riven ignores it. Her chest motionless and her eyes closed, and the little creature starts panicking now when it realizes that it has obviously disappointed its kind savior.

But it won't back down, it can do this! It can save Riven! It can help! It just needs to roar like the other Noxians do! Yell like the collapsed soldiers that are convulsing around them on the ground! Its faint mewls can hopefully boost the morale of those men and help her save her soundlessly sleeping snow-haired savior! Petunia can finally protect the stoic yet affectionate Noxian swordswoman. The tiny furry creature just needs to make a loud enough sound!

The Poro tries to roar, again and again and again as the chemical explosions shake the ground and the green fumes starts dimming its vision. Its once pristine white fur now covered in ash and tiny red droplets. The Poro attempts to roar once more as the ground starts shaking.

But the tiny crying creature that Riven had saved can't roar like a warrior and its owner is mad at it and she is ignoring it, and so the tiny quivering Poro starts licking the dead swordswoman's black bloodied fingers and begins sobbing for forgiveness as the chemical barrage above them continues. The toxic fumes coiling around Petunia and her only friend like acidic poisonous blankets.


	89. Fiddlesticks

**Tags: Fiddlesticks, Jax, Malphite, Gangplank.**

* * *

"Sigh…" The old dusty scarecrow produces a sound of pure heartache as it presses its face deeper into the raggedy surface of its gloved palm. The dejected moans of the animated crude human effigy eliciting curious glances and a few elbow jabs from the other patrons of the Institute's crowded Mess Hall.

"Sigh…" Fiddlesticks mutters once again as the cloth forming the sentient scarecrow's face twists in a peculiar depiction of a weird crooked smile. Malphite, another old-timer of the Institute of War that just so happened to sit next to ol' Fiddlesticks sends Jax a sideways glance as if asking the Grandmaster at Arms if he knows what's ailing the poor, sighing Harbinger of doom and rabid crows. When Jax merely shrugs in response and Fiddlesticks' _smile_ slowly widens, Malphite decides to further investigate the mystery of the smiling scarecrow.

"Hey there, Fiddles. How're you doing?" Malphite clears his throat in order to catch the other magical construct's attention, pebbles and dust loudly shifting inside the hulking tank's throat before a voice like grinding stone roughly escapes from the mouth of the sentient rock-mountain.

But Fiddlesticks seemingly ignores Malphite's greeting. The animated scarecrow's hollow emerald eyeholes intently staring at something in the opposite direction with visible longing.

"Isn't she gorgeous?" Fiddlesticks mutters in his eerie ghostly tone. Jax and Malphite share another perplexed glance before their eyes return back to Fiddlesticks.

"Who is?" The sentient stone construct ask in true bewilderment. Jax also leans a bit forward in order to better hear the Harbinger's answer.

"Elementalist Lux." Sighs Fiddlesticks once more with that same weird smile plastered on the sewed potato sack that he calls a face. "Look at her, so pristine and shiny! So magnificent and delicate and pure! She is like an angel."

Jax blinks. Malphite spares Lux a quick glance and then tilts his head in honest confusion. There were no wings attached to the light mage's shoulders. What in _the Rock's_ name was Fiddlesticks even talking about?

"What?" Maphite finally asks with a tone like rolling pebbles.

"She is an angel," Fiddlestick repeats as he keeps staring longingly at Luxanna's back. "She is too perfect for this world. She is too perfect for Runeterra."

Jax not-so-subtly proceeds to spin a fat purple finger around the side of his helmet while staring at the delusional scarecrow. Malphite snorts his agreement with a solemn cackle and an exaggerated shake of the head.

"Leave the poor lad alone ye damn fools." A hoarse gruff voice is suddenly heard, emanating from near the serving area of the buzzing Mess Hall. And a few moments later Gangplank sits down next to the lovestruck scarecrow, shooting fiery glares at both Jax and Malphite as if they had somehow offended him. "Yer two clowns can't understand what tis like being in love. All ye' care about is stacking armor or attack speed, an' mindlessly hitting minions an' towers."

"Fiddlesticks here, is a true lover like me." Gangplank continues as he casually tosses his prosthetic arm behind the Harbinger's thin shoulders. "He and I are gonna break hearts and capture maidens, get all the wenches and leave you two lonely and starved! Isn't that right my lad?"

"Y-yes, Sir." Fiddlesticks murmurs almost shyly and if the animated scarecrow could blush it would have done so in that moment.

"That's the spirit!" Gangplank cheers as he slaps the Harbinger in the back good-naturedly with his metal prosthetic. "Now go out there and talk to yer lovely wench!" The former pirate lord exclaims and Fiddlesticks nods his head before getting up and moving towards Lady Luxanna.

"Young love," Gangplank sniffles as he watches Fiddlesticks striking up a pleasant conversation with a surprised Lux. "It is so daaamn beautiful! Sniff..!" The former pirate lord finishes before wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. Jax and Malphite share another quiet glance between themselves before slowly rising from their seats and leaving the table.

* * *

 **Notes: The idea for this story came to me during a League match. I was playing Fiddlesticks mid with my Union Jack skin and the enemy laner was Elementalist Lux. So I started thinking: Look at me with my 100 rp or so plebian skin facing off against the great master of all the elements and her fancy particles! If this was a Disney fairytale Fiddles would be the honest kind man and Lux would be the princess he would fall in love with at first sight. I liked the idea and so I quickly wrote a few lines before I completely forgot about it.**


	90. Sudden phone calls

**Summary: A little insight into Caitlyn's daily life.**

 **Tags: Vi, Caitlyn.**

* * *

Caitlyn sighs, tired sienna-colored orbs skimming through the words of another unsigned document, the cold charcoal-like tar of the Sheriff's forgotten coffee still lying abandoned at the depths of a white mug near her right forearm. The melancholic ticking of the simple clock on the wall the only sound feeling the room other than the occasional scratching of pen on paper.

"Sheriff!" Suddenly voices one of Caitlyn's male deputies as he hastily barges in the room. Caitlyn's eyes following the familiar man's movements as he approaches her desk with quick and purposeful strides. The Sheriff blinks when the obviously panicked deputy not only opts to skip the usual pleasantries, but also proceeds to shove a blinking Hex-phone device towards the intrigued brunette's face.

"Wh-?" The Sheriff begins to ask before the frantic deputy interrupts her.

"The call is from Saint Cogwheel's hospital, Sheriff!" The obviously panic-stricken man all but yelps in sheer panic. "Vi's there right now!"

The brunette's eyes widen in fear as Caitlyn's hands grasp the small vibrating communication device and hastily press the 'receive' button. The Sheriff's eyes widen even further when the voice of a solemn nurse reaches Caitlyn's ears.

/

Hurried footsteps echo across the crowded corridors of Saint Cogwheel's hospital as the brunette Sheriff races towards a particular plain door. Caitlyn's jaw drawn and serious, the cunning woman's face a grim mask made of stone. Just outside of the room, an exhausted-looking nurse sends the agitated policewoman a sympathetic glance before nodding at her in greeting.

"She is inside, Sheri-.." Is all that the poor nurse manages to utter before Caitlyn enters the room. Stern brown eyes instantly finding the shocked sky blue orbs of her pink-haired partner.

"I'm here." Caitlyn announces as she stares down at the nervous and visibly cringing troublesome pinkette. "Now tell me, Vi. Why aren't you letting the good nurses here give you your tetanus shot like a normal person!?"


	91. Yuri Knights

**Summary: Lux is tasked by the crown with uncovering the horrors of doctor Singed's most sinister project, yet. The mysterious: Project Yuri Knight.**

 **Tags: Lux, Riven, Vi, Slight Yuri.**

* * *

"And this is where we train the older test subjects."

The sound of two pairs of footsteps is lost in a sea of pained grunts and thumps of bleeding flesh against scarred knuckles. Luxanna Crownguard tries to keep her expression neutral as she observes the malnourished forms of the kidnapped Zaunite and Noxian guinea pigs fight to the death from her vantage point two storeys above the colossal red-splattered arenas.

"Your facilities are certainly impressive, Doctor Singed." The disguised Demacian spy attempts to stoke the already inflated ego of the cruel Zaunite man. It seems to work, Singed nods his head as the two continue strolling about the secret laboratories, unspeakable terrors and hate-filled eyes peeking at them through the reinforced glass panes down below. The undercover Demacian crown agent can barely suppress a flinch when her wandering gaze comes across the angry lilac orbs of one of the younger emaciated test subjects.

"That they are, Miss Prism. The Zaunite government has truly spared no expense in order to make sure that the Yuri Knight project will be a complete and utter success without major problems."

Lux hums in agreement as she continues surveying the silhouettes of the fighting brainwashed teenage soldiers. Spending money on a project that was both morally wrong and inhumane, that sounded just like the corrupted ruling authorities of Zaun's inner council.

"And what do you think of the test subjects so far, Miss Prism?" Singed asks as if out of mere curiosity, but Lux knows better than to take the Zaunite scientist's curiosity at face value, and is privy to the fact that the cruel man's true motives are to sell his unannounced rich guest a few brainwashed bodyguards in order to further fuel his nightmarish ambitions.

A fake saccharine smile is plastered at once onto the young undercover spy's face.

"I think that the results of your research speak for themselves, Dr. Singed." Lux states, sky blue eyes intently focused on a young pink-haired woman beating two armed soldiers with her naked fists two floors below her feet. "The test subjects are certainly exhibiting the martial prowess and resourcefulness that one would expect from an elite bodyguard, Doctor. Finding out the real extent of the Knights' loyalty is the one thing that's giving me second thoughts and keeps me from employing one of your soldiers, however…"

The Zaunite madman nods his head as if Singed had been already expecting the Demacian woman's reluctance.

"Please, let me dispel your doubtless fears, Miss Prism. I can personally assure you that your future Yuri Knight will be blindingly catering to your every whim from the moment you purchase your new bodyguard until you so chose to discard them.. or they perish in the line of duty."

The insane scientist's eyes intently roam across the dirt-coated bodies of the enslaved test subjects fighting below. "Are you still skeptical, Miss Prism? Yes? Then how about a little demonstration to ease your mind?" Bandaged fingers proceed to press the bright red button of some kind of intercom that has been securely attached to one of the bridge-like structure's wall.

"Dr. Thresh? Send me a couple test subjects on the second observation deck. Oh, and make sure that the subjects are properly wearing their collars this time."

A few minutes later and Lux is staring at an assortment of bloodthirsty young adult women lined up before her and Dr. Singed. Hateful glares scorching the air around her with seething intensity, bruised stoic visages facing the disguised blonde spy with some sort of quiet fury.

"This is subject Six." Singed gestures towards the pink-haired woman that Lux had watched annihilate armed Zaunite soldiers with ease merely a few minutes ago. Droplets of smudged warm blood still marring Vi's face and scarred bruised knuckles.

"Subject Four." The bald chemist continues as he proceeds to gesture at another young woman, this one of either Noxian or Freljordian descent judging by the female warrior's unruly mop of white hair and piercing dark red eyes. _A Noxian then_ , Lux mentally concludes absentmindedly.

"And finally, Subject Eleven." A pair of amber orbs, scorching like liquid hellfire hatefully return Lux's glare. The exotic purple woman's powerful taloned arms balled up into fists, a challenging snarl lowly emanating from the dragon-hybrid's forcibly collared throat.

"Now take your pick, Miss Prism. Chose the first actor of our little show if you will. Please.. take your time."

Without a moment's hesitation and with a fake eagerness guiding her actions the blonde aristocrat points at the less scary of the three presented guinea pigs, the white-haired woman of Noxian descend that is neither snarling at her aggressively nor she is covered in still warm, liquid crimson.

"Subject Four, are you sure? Oh, I see, it is because of your country's little vendetta with Noxus! But of course, you can't wait to humiliate a Noxian, eh?" Lux allows the sinister man to believe whatever he wants, the blonde spy's crystal blue orbs solely focused on the neutral expression of the white-haired test subject.

"Very well, I guess what influences your selection isn't my business as long as you pick an adequate test subject. Now give the test subject a kiss."

"What?" Lux mouths.

"Now, Miss Prism, I know that the thought of you kissing a Noxian might be repulsive, but that is just how a Yuri Knight contact is formed, so there is nothing we can do about it I'm afraid…"

Lux does her best to display her role's reluctance along with a rich arrogant heiress' utter disdain for such an action as she nears the quiet Noxian warrior. Subject Four remains perfectly still even as Lux grudgingly kisses Riven on the cheek and then hastily steps back in order to pointedly wipe at her mouth with an embroidered silken handkerchief.

"Bleh!" Lux spats in disgust, the blonde light mage's flushed expression hidden behind the cover of her expensive silken handkerchief. "My god, those uncivilized plebeians are just as foul-tasting as they look! This miraculous bodyguard of yours better be worthy of the immense humiliation I've just endured, Dr. Singed! _Or_ there will be consequences.."

Completely unfazed by the young _heiress'_ threat, Singed nods his head with much gusto and spreads his hands in an obviously satisfied celebratory manner."The contact's conditions have been fulfilled! Congratulations, Miss Prism you've just obtained your own Yuri Knight!"

Lux smiles brightly at that as if she is extremely proud of herself and can't register the dragon hybrid's growling getting even louder. Or that the despicable scientist had just tricked her currently adopted haughty persona into purchasing one of his brainwashed toys…

"Give your new pet an order to confirm that it can't deny you anything, Miss Prism. Make sure that it is something that Subject Four would rather avoid."

 _And now came the tricky part,_ the disguised Demacian spy thought bitterly. _Tormenting an already suffering individual for the sake of maintaining her cover_. _But how would Lux go about hurting the unfortunate Noxian woman while minimizing the damage done to the albino warrior?_

 _Should she order her new bodyguard to do something stupid and humiliating? To fall on her arms and knees and bark like a dog for example while she laughed in pure glee? Or, should the undercover light mage err on the side of caution for once and command Subject Four to physically injure her body?_

 _What would a snobbish, arrogant and self-righteous Demacian sycophant do?_ The Crown Agent wonders urgently. _And more_ importantly, just how far am I prepared to go in order to avoid making Singed suspicious?

In the end, and while faced with that terrible dilemma under the scrutinizing gaze of the despicable bald man, Lux had come into the utterly damning conclusion that she wouldn't be able to shut down the secret labs and save Subject Four's life unless she passed the immoral test of the monstrous Zaunite madman.

"Get down on your knees, Noxian scum." Lux orders with the biting tone of an impatient noblewoman. Riven obeys without a word

"Good, it seems like you aren't completely worthless after all, now get on all fours, you backstabbing bitch." Once more the tormented albino soldier obeys the heiress' command, but Lux finds an excuse to throw a childish tantrum anyways.

"No! Keep your eyes on me, you filthy whore, not at the floor!" The undercover agent suddenly screams. "This entire exercise is fucking pointless unless I can savor your humiliation and pain, you stupid inferior creature!" The disguised Demacian spy angrily spats while grabbing a handful of Riven's messy ivory hair, roughly lifting the enslaved warrior's head until cold cobalt eyes can meet a pair of lifeless dark crimsons.

Lux then slaps her new bodyguard. The sound rings like a gunshot inside Luxanna's eardrums, the very notion of her hurting a defenseless slave sickening the young Demacian woman to her very core. And yet, Lux knows that she has to do this. She knows that Singed is standing right behind her, observing her every move. The show has to go on for both her's and the kidnapped Noxian soldier's sake.

The second slap sounds louder than the first one, if that could even be possible at all. And just like the first time, the Noxian warrior doesn't move a muscle to defend herself or begs for the younger woman's mercy. Emotionless red eyes stay locked on the young noblewoman's gaze as Lux hits Riven a third and then a fourth time in the face. The undercover blonde aristocrat tries to ignore the small trickle of blood so elegantly escaping from the corner of the white-haired guinea pig's mouth. Subject Four doesn't even blink.

"I think that's quite enough, Miss Prism." The voice of the cruel Zaunite chemist unexpectedly emanates from behind Luxanna's back in order to give the poor kneeling Noxian some respite from her newest torment. "You can continue the… education of your new Yuri Knight in the privacy of your home after our transactions are completed."

Lux simply nods while appearing reluctant for a moment, before finally releasing Riven's messy snow-colored hair.

"Oh, but of course, Dr. Singed." The blonde Demacian smiles charmingly at the cruel bald man. "Please, forgive that unsightly display I've just shown you. I simply couldn't help myself when I found the Noxian filth within striking distance."

The Zaunite man merely hums to himself.

"That's understandable, Miss Prism. So will that be it then?" Singed asks prompting a raised eyebrow from the undercover crown agent.

"Wouldn't you prefer to purchase a second guard dog like most of our other clients tend to do? The presence of a second Yuri Knight would guarantee your safety in case of an emergency, you see. Since one Yuri Knight could serve as a diversion for your foes while the other one would aid your escape."

Sky blue eyes blink even as they examine the tense forms of the bloodstained pinkette, the kneeling Noxian warrior and the still growling Half-dragon.

"Would the Yuri Knights really sacrifice themselves for me as instructed, my dear Doctor?" says Lux whilst looking troubled.

Singed snorts in response.

"Without a doubt, Miss Prism. My Yuri Knights are programmed to unquestionably cherish and desire the first non-indoctrinated person that kisses them. As such the test subjects' cooperation isn't achieved through the means of a death threat or violence as is usually the case in warrior-slave programs, but through the subjects' genuine desire to be acknowledged by their respective masters and their innate want to shield their owners from harm."

Luxanna can only blink owlishly at the drawling mad chemist. "The Yuri Knights protect their owners because... they fall in love with them?" The blonde noblewoman asks clearly stunned, unconvinced.

"Love is nothing more than a chemical reaction, Miss Prism." Replies Singed with a knowing look. "It can be coerced into beings, tampered with, and even synthesized inside a lab, if one is given enough time and resources to test what stimulates it, mind you."

There is a lump in the back of Luxanna's throat that keeps growing. Sky blue orbs inadvertently move towards the still kneeling, slightly older Noxian woman that's submissively staring at the floor with blood trickling from the corner of her injured mouth. Singed instantly notices and a wicked, insane grin slowly forms behind the Zaunite scientist's taut facial bandages.

"Let's take Subject Four for example. The subject knows that its feelings are forced upon it. It realizes that you and it will most likely never be romantically involved together and it also acknowledges that it is no doubt physically stronger than you and I."

The crown agent nods while a dull pain rapidly grows inside her chest. Lux does her best not to look at the quiet brainwashed soldier.

"And yet, Subject Four can't help but feel sorrow for incurring your wrath a few seconds ago! It is flooded with guilt for minutely entertaining the thought of fighting back against your assault! Hope whenever you show it the faintest hint of tolerance for its shortcomings or speck of love or kindness!"

Lux takes a short breath as she recomposes her expression and then averts her eyes from the trio of collared slaves, turning to Singed even if the blonde spy's smile doesn't quite reach her striking aquamarine eyes.

"So the lowborn filth wants to woo me?" The undercover light mage chuckles with imperious mirth. "That is truly hilarious, Dr. Singed!" The noble light mage giggles with fake excitement.

The heinous bald scientist just nods his head in response. "That is also one of the main reasons that some of our clients tend to buy a second Yuri Knight, so that they can let the two test subjects compete for their master's nonexistent affection. There is nothing more satisfying from what I have heard than observing these mindless beasts tear each other apart for a reward that they will never actually obtain."

Lux nods her head with a wide smile even though the kind light mage inwardly curses herself for what she has to do next in order to stay in the role of the wealthy arrogant bitch that she is impersonating.

"Then I will take this one too!" The blonde spy happily exclaims as she leans forward and presses a quick featherlike kiss against the tattooed cheek of the rowdy pinkette, chaining Vi to her servitude.

/

The Demacian crown agent sighs in relief as she lets the rhythmic rocking of the carriage lull her to sleep. Luxanna's head feeling as if it is about to explode from the tension that's been building up inside her brain until the very moment she was allowed to leave the horrendous secret labs of the mad chemist.

The mission had been successful as far as The Crown was concerned at least. Lux had been able to confirm Dr. Singed's illegal activities and witnessed the results of his unlawful conducts. Having to pay a large sum of money in order to maintain her cover as an arrogant scatter-brained sycophant have been an unforeseeable expense, but one that was completely justified given the severity of Luxanna's mission.

The blonde light mage is almost asleep and so Lux frowns when a weird feeling of heaviness suddenly overcomes her body. Still drowsy and utterly exhausted from the day's events, the Demacian aristocrat opens her eyes only to come face to face with the seemingly indifferent and stoic visages of her recently purchased Yuri Knights.

Lux attempts to smile at the solemn women before her even though the startled blonde crown agent can't help but squirm under the combined intensity of the gazes of Riven's maroon-colored orbs and Vi's cold cobalt eyes. The light mage's nervous hands sinking deeper into the rough fabric of the twin simple jackets that were used to cover her legs and chest like makeshift blankets while she had been dozing off mere seconds ago. Well, at least her new bodyguards didn't seem to hate her so far. That was something at least, right?

The blonde light mage can't help, but avert her gaze from the sight of the two powerful young women that are currently staring at her with unmistakably neutral expressions, yet obviously hungry, albeit slightly guarded eyes. The two Yuri Knights appear to be seizing her up like two caged starving wolves about to descend on their helpless prey. Every pore of the two silent warriors radiating white hot desire along with suspicion and reluctant acceptance of their present situation.

Lux gulps when both of her new bodyguards silently stand up from their respective seats at the opposite side of the carriage, before proceeding to sit down again next to her. Vi's and Riven's much more ample and defined womanly curves suddenly even more apparent to the poor light mage due to the close proximity of her bodyguards' bodies.

Both of the enslaved warriors don't utter a single word and opt to just wait in silence for the carriage to reach its unknown destination. One arm of each tormented soldier partially wrapped around the blonde noblewoman's waist, rather slyly, the test subjects' body heat slowly seeping through the disguised spy's extravagant clothes.

With a prominent blush already coloring her flushed cheeks, Luxanna tries to relax pressed between the stiff unmoving bodies of her two beautiful rugged. Minutes pass in tense silence, the repetitive galloping of the carriage's horses the only thing breaking the charged monotony of the weird scene. Until Vi suddenly leans down and growls seductively against the light mage's left ear... Even as Riven's possessive grip around Luxanna's waist tightens in response to the pinkette's abrupt challenge. Probably unconsciously, the Noxian albino shifts closer to the blushing blonde woman that the antisocial swordswoman hold's dear deep in her heart. The young Demacian spy's sky blue orbs instantly widening in a peculiar mixture of sheer shock, confused arousal and mild fear.

Interpreting Luxanna's nervous fidgeting as a rejection to their admittedly clumsy romantic approaches the two female warriors hastily release Lux's waist with a muffled whine much like remorseful dogs that are being scolded by their angry owner. The two Yuri knights' postures shift as the bodyguards' heads hang low in immense sadness and shame.

Without thinking the crown agent's hands instantly grasp those of the slightly older women, soft fingers gently caressing the scarred palms of the two test subjects. Riven and Vi release a shuddering relieved breath as they once again shyly wrap their arms around the blushing light mage's petite waist. Lux swallows again nervously.

A single thought keeps pestering the poor blonde crown agent as the nondescript carriage lazily continues navigating across the smog-covered streets of Zaun, heading out of the impossibly corrupt city-state. _Just how in the king's name was she going to explain living together with those two to her overprotective brother, Garen and her strict old-fashioned parents!_

* * *

 **This short story was created with two goals in mind. 1 Write a ridiculous concept that will allow the simultaneous shipping of Lux with Vi and Riven, much like the weird approach of the restaurant Diana-Leona chapter. 2 Turn said concept into something a bit more serious despite the frivolous AU it takes place in. And that's how the concept of Yuri Knights was cooked up on the spot in order to serve as the vehicle that would drive the love triangle home and help solidify it. Puns are awesome. Hey, I can at least think of this snippet as dialogue practice. Feel free to borrow the concept if you want a quick way to ship champions.**

 **PS: Singed was also the pioneer of Project Furry Knight, and that's how the Vastayan were created in this AU. So much creativity today, it's spilling all over the web, pouring out of the toaster.**


	92. Vac23 Childhood friends

**Summary: A simple fluffy feel-good piece about Shauna nursing a crush on Fiora. Yuri tag.**

* * *

"Oh, yes! I also like Jarvan's chiseled jawline, his kind blue eyes, his commanding and manly tone! I wouldn't say no if he wanted to make me his queen and future wife!" Luxanna Crownguard quips with a little giggle and the small company of female friends that is presently gathered around the table in the Institute's mess hall burst into fits of good-natured laughter.

Ahri being the next one to put her two Ionian cents in, smiles widely.

"Oh I know, I know!" The Nine-Tailed Fox exclaims in evident excitement. The grinning Vastayan's fluffy velvety tails happily swaying behind her as Ahri practically vibrates on her seat with barely contained elation. "But have you seen Pantheon's abs?" The young vixen huskily continues? "I would so let that rugged Targonian brute tie the knot any day in a jiffy!"

Another bout of excited laughter echoes across the crowded mess hall. Vayne smiles faintly as the usually antisocial Night Hunter busies her hands with a silver-tipped crossbow bolt, grateful to be included in the company of these loud individuals, but not wanting to participate into the conversation going on, lest she accidentally lets her own sexual preferences slip. Homosexuality wasn't viewed kindly in Demacia after all, and so the black-haired vampire had opted to keep her head down for the time being and hide her real preferences. The recent tensions of the appearing voidlings and fearful whispers of approaching war that had put everyone on edge would hopefully settle down soon enough, Vayne hoped.

"And what about you, Shauna?" Leona politely asks, wanting to include the reclusive Night Hunter in the small company's carefree discussion and not let the red-eyed huntress feel left out and ostracized. "Any handsome men out there that have been catching your fancy those days?"

The rest of the gathered women quickly turn towards the now panicking huntress and lean forward on the table in a clear show of anticipation for the pale woman's answer. Meanwhile Vayne's eyes are wild and open wide like saucers behind the thankfully concealing lenses of the tense Night Hunter's ruby eyewear. Shauna inwardly curses herself as she racks her reeling brains for a name. Any male name! Even as the traitorous eyes of the pale vampiric aristocrat minutely glance towards the face of her dear childhood friend, Fiora Laurent that's also leaning against the table with an interested look on her smirking visage.

"Ezreal..." Vayne finally breathes out the name of the first man that she manages to recall in the midst of her nearly crippling panic attack. Luxanna instantly smiles in approval as she gives the blushing pale huntress a big thumbs up and a nod of approval.

"Isn't he just dreamy?" Lux comments as if in a daze. "He is kind, he is smart, he has an interesting occupation _and_ a caring personality too. I can see why you would go for the Piltover bachelor, mhmm." Lux smiles. "Of course Jayce isn't that bad either." The petite light mage quickly adds as if as an afterthought.

"Right.." Vayne awkwardly mutters, the vampire's scarlet gaze mournfully slipping away from Fiora as Ahri and Leona somehow get into a heated debate about whether Jayce is overcompensating for something with his hammer and why so many League champions wielded enormous weapons almost as tall as themselves.

Shauna's lips twitch into a fake reserved smile even as most of the conversation from that point on fails to register in the Night Hunter's frustrated mind.

 _'Coward,'_ The painful tug on her heart seems to say, and Vayne can't even pretend that she doesn't agree with the treacherous clenched pained muscle.

* * *

0000

Vayne grimaces when she opens her door late at night, only to find Fiora standing on the empty hallway with her arms wrapped around a pillow once again. And the Night Hunter sighs as she steps back and lets her childhood friend enter the room before she closes the door with an annoyed grumble and locks it.

"Did you dream of the duel with your father again?" The young Demacian vampire asks Fiora softly. The Grand Duelist merely dips her head towards the carpeted floor before she proceeds to lie down on Shauna's lonely bed.

The pale huntress irritably runs the fingers of one hand across her long midnight black trenches. The cursed noblewoman being slightly frustrated with Fiora's repetitive nightly visits. Although Shauna for all her cold mannerisms and solitary habits isn't one to abandon a friend alone after having a nightmare, even less so the very woman that she has been carrying a torch for since forever.

The mattress creaks lightly as Shauna lays down at the other side of the bed and turns off the night lamp. The Night Hunter closes her eyes, attempting to relax and possibly fall asleep despite the tantalizing knowledge that Fiora is currently messing with the silken bed sheet right behind her.

 _'Well, at least Fi's latest nightmare didn't cause her friend to burst into tears this time.'_ Shauna quietly ponders. Vayne can only hope that the usually snobbish and arrogant duelist is going to be alright and sleep soundly.

* * *

0000

 _'This is definitely not alright!_ ' Shauna mentally shouts after she suddenly wakes up, slowly opens her bleary red eyes and realizes that she is currently spooning her dear childhood friend. Fiora's sleeping death grip on one of the brooding vampire's pale wrist that's coiled around her lithe waist trapping the frantic black-haired in place. The two women's bodies tightly pressed against each other like two matching puzzle pieces from the same colorful box.

Vayne has never previously noted just how perfectly her sleeping friend's body could fit into her arms, or ever entertained the thought of pressing a burning palm under Fiora's pajama top in order to rest her hand against the firm warm stomach of the other noblewoman. Hells, Shauna had never found her nose pressed against the short dichromatic hair of Fiora before now, her heartbeat about to explode singing right behind the sleeping duelist's back.

The curse aristocrat bites her lips nervously as the heavily blushing female vampire stealthily attempts to extract her incriminating appendages from the toned stomach of her slumbering best friend. Shauna's senses completely overwhelmed by Fiora's welcome presence. The cursed vampire's heartbeat still violently contracting inside her breasts and the sharp canines that are residing inside her mouth already extending from Shauna's close proximity to the obliviously sleeping Laurent beauty.

The seconds keep ticking by as Vayne shifts nervously. The low short breath that the panicked pale woman eventually dares to take, merely serving to guide Fiora's pleasant scent inside her nose and then all over Vayne short-circuited brain. Fi's reaction to the vampiric huntress' unsuccessful escape attempts is to press herself closer to Shauna and sleepily wiggle her hips against Vayne's lower stomach and thighs.

Vayne is pretty sure that she is going to need a new pair of underwear if this madness continues…

And then, as if on cue Fiora sleepily shift inside Shauna's arms with an unintelligible whiny grumble. The Grand Duelist' relaxed face now stopping mere inches away from that of Shauna's. The vampire's rigid scorching palms unwittingly cupping Fiora's hips due to the slumbering duelist's motions. Fiora's pajama top damningly riding up her chest resulting in the Grand Duelist's exposed breasts to gently press against those of the currently frozen vampire.

 _'Oh gods!'_ Shauna is panicking inside her brain. This was the last time she ever considered sharing a bed with the clingy aristocrat!

Vayne tries to ignore all of those completely new sensations. The way she can almost taste Fiora's breath against her mouth, the way the other woman's lips are presently mere inches away from hers, looking so soft and so plump and oh so deliciously seductive. The cursed Demacian vigilante tries to ignore how pretty Fiora looks without a permanently annoyed expression marring her beautiful face. How deceivingly fragile and delicate the duelist's body feels under her touch, the utterly baffling amount of warmth that engulfs Shauna's heart as she helplessly continues staring intently at her sleeping crush in sheer awe, true adoration.

Slowly, so very slowly, Vayne resigns herself to a night spent in this awkward position. The flustered vampire's arms tentatively sliding from their place on the duelist's bottom to the small of the other noblewoman's back.

Shauna settles down with her forehead lightly pressing against Fiora's, and in a moment of bravery Vayne dares to press a tiny kiss against the cheek of her peacefully sleeping best friend.

"Goodnight, Fi." Vayne whispers affectionately as she closes her hellish ruby eyes and finally lets her twisted vampiric body relax at last amidst the soothing warmth of the slumbering blue-blooded duelist's. Unbeknown to the relaxing huntress, however, Fiora's breathing pattern minutely changes for just a second and the edges of the duelist's lips tug downwards forming a dark disappointed scowl.

"You were supposed to kiss me on the lips, Shauna, you idiot! Not the cheek you thick-headed vampire!" Fiora abruptly exclaims as the peeved red-faced noblewoman abruptly opens her stormy blue orbs and crushes her lips against those of Shauna. The shocked vampire's eyes instantly snap open and almost bulge out of their eye sockets in response and Fiora just glares at Vayne harder.

* * *

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Notes: I miss Teemo chapters.**


	93. The newspaper ad

**Summary: Riven is job hunting a little while after she's been betrayed by Noxus and finds a promising ad at the newspaper.**

* * *

Riven wasn't sure what she had expected when she had spontaneously decided to answer that succinct newspaper ad. Truth be told, the white-haired Noxian defector had no idea what modeling even meant or summarized, but the plain printed text was promising a steady pay and didn't mention any other job requirements other than her being a young healthy woman. So perhaps modeling had something to do with physical labor? Otherwise why would her future employers be so adamant about only hiring individuals of 18 to 23 years of age?

Red eyes lower on the torn piece of paper held in her right palm, before Riven confirms the address written on it one last time and then proceeds to raise her other hand and ring the doorbell.

The female Noxian warrior remains perfectly still, staring at the wooden barrier in front of her with the discipline of a war veteran. The door had a peephole after all, so her future employers might already be observing her, trying to acknowledge any signs of weakness on her part. Justified reasons for them to give the job to a more disciplined employee. Porters and loaders were usually required to remain standing for long periods of time after all and so it wouldn't do for Riven to exhibit the behavior of a lazy person that exerted so easily by breaking her posture.

The former soldier greets the smiling man that opens the door with a small formal nod of the head, before she lets the visibly giddy man lead her inside her new workplace.

Riven is led into a medium-sized, barely furnished room that's brimming with hex-tech equipment. Weird electronic lenses with flickering red lights glaring at her from all directions as the wandering exiled swordswoman sits down on the comfortable looking cream-colored couch as she is instructed. The Noxian warrior proceeds to glance neutrally at the buzzing assortment of hex-tech eyes that are curiously enough placed facing her form.

"Those are cameras," Helpfully supplies her smiling interviewer as he proceeds to take a seat next to Riven. "They record things. I am supposed to record all of the interviews. Do you have a problem with that?" The smiling man asks and the exiled swordswoman shakes her head because she knows that is the right answer.

"Excellent!" Grins approvingly the bald interviewer as he lets his beady brown eyes rove across the warrior's body appraisingly. "Before we start, I will have to see an ID to make sure you are not underage and wearing your mom's make-up or something."

Riven nods and the grinning man blinks owlishly for a few seconds when the Noxian Exile presents the man a pair of old scratched soldier dog tags. The giddy man pauses for a moment, eyeing Riven as if she is pulling a prank on him only to almost instantly flinch away from the veteran soldier's intent sanguine gaze.

"I see, so uh.. Riven, is it?" Her future employer smiles at her unconvincingly, _probably put-off by her being a former Noxian commander_ , the white-haired woman deducts even as she instinctively nods her head upon hearing her name.

"Affirmative." The pale woman replies, eyes solely focused on the unnerved bald man.

"And just for confirmation's sake," The smiling man drawls absentmindedly as he awkwardly proceeds to show the dog tag at one of his flickering Hex-tech recorders. "How old are you, Miss Riven?" The interviewer's smile widens as he returns Riven her damaged dog tags.

"I've seen twenty winters." Is the pale swordswoman's instant reply, prompting another small pause from the paunchy bald man. The interviewer wets his lips in thought, appearing to be contemplating something important and then shooting a weird look at the door as if he is expecting someone to burst in the room unannounced and handcuff him. When nothing of the sort happens after a whole minute or so, the now visibly sweating man returns back to interviewing the unflinching Noxian war veteran.

"Tell me a bit about yourself, Miss Riven. Why do you think you would make a good model?"

"I know how to handle a sword and my hand-to-hand skills aren't that bad either."

The bald man grins. "You know how to handle a man-blade, eh?" He winks at the exiled deserter. "That's surprisingly confident and straightforward coming from a woman your age."

"Perhaps, but it is the truth." Riven replies, albeit a bit confused by the grinning man's wording. _'Man-blades?'_ The albino swordswoman wonders. _'Why was there such a strange distinction between manmade swords and weapons made by Yordle or Vastayan blacksmiths?'_

"Do you have any hobbies?" The grinning bald man asks completely unaware of the stoic swordswoman's musings.

"Training myself to exhaustion and mastering Ki energy manipulation." The former commander replies.

"Is that something like the Ionian chakra technique for overstimulation of sensitive nerves in one's body?"

"Yes, I have used it with stunning results." Riven replies proudly, surprised with her new employer's knowledge of martial arts and fighting styles.

The bald man whistles appreciatively at her reply. "Damn and I thought that Sarah, my girlfriend was wild! Is there anything that you dislike? Anything at all? Do you have any problems with giving blowjobs for example?"

Riven merely shrugs. "My unit wasn't exactly proficient with explosives, but I know when to drop down low and when to brave the shrapnel showering me."

"Oh, ho, ho! This one is feisty!" The paunchy man laughs, not even listening to the albino deserter's explanation at his point, but merely nodding his head in excitement with a huge lecherous grin plastered on his face.

"You are hired! Come here again early tomorrow morning." The raunchy man yells, and the Noxian warrior allows relief to flood her being even if her stony expression remains unchanged. The two shake hands and the former Noxian commander looks at the kind bald man right in the eye.

"I won't let you down." Riven promises sincerely, unwittingly moved by her employer's willingness to hire a wandering Noxian defector such as herself.

The interviewer laughs good-naturedly as he taps at her thigh. "Oh, Miss Riven, of that I have no doubt."

* * *

 **Notes: Mere seconds after Riven left Katarina drops from the ceiling. "Hire me too! If the worthless traitor can do this modeling thing then I can do it too and do it even better! My _Voracity_ used to be legendary where I came from before I had to learn new moves and I can handle more blades at once than Riven would ever dream of!" Mister Smith's lecherous grin nearly spills off of his face. **


	94. Chains of duty

Duty, such a simple and yet extremely complicated concept. A word as heavy as iron or steel and sharp enough to wound even the most dexterous of individuals. It was because of that single life-changing word that a young blonde woman would be abandoned in the heart of a scary immense forest as a human sacrifice. It was because of the jagged chain called responsibility that Lux would end up hunted down like a hare or a fox by her very own family members.

But let's take a step back for a moment and merely observe the panicked blonde-haired noblewoman race through the tree barks and dart between the thorned thickets. Let's ignore Luxanna's frantic hitched breathing, the tears welling up behind wet sky blue orbs. The armed men pursuing her on horseback, the solemn expression plastered on the face of the young maiden's older brother.

Garen wasn't monster of course. He didn't enjoy what he was currently doing or what he had to do. And although the brave commander of the Dauntless Vanguard would usually feel pride swelling up in his heart whenever he would defeat or capture a rogue spell caster, the valiant soldier felt no joy for aiding his men in their attempt to execute Luxanna, his younger sibling.

Before Garen was a brother he was a Demacian soldier, however. A man that followed orders to a T and served the king with all his soul even if some of the missions he had been tasked with were more damning than the others. This night was no exception to that rule. Lux's magic had manifested without a warning a few hours ago, setting fire to a nearby barn when his sister had been walking beside it. The king's council had immediately demanded for her execution after hearing the witnesses' descriptions of the horrible event. And while nobody had been hurt so far by Luxanna's destructive mana running wild the citizens needed to be appeased and the other noble houses were watching the events unfolding intently.

For the sake of the country every spell caster in Demacia needed to be watched or exiled. For the sake of its people, mages that had caused property damage and havoc needed to be dealt with and sent to the gallows without delay.

In her desperate run Luxanna stumbles upon a patch of protruding dirt and tumbles across the dense web of interweaved tree roots. A painful jolt flares within her ankle, hot tears rolling down the blonde woman's cheeks as Lux hisses in pain and starts limping forward. The sound of her pursuers drawing closer, horses neighing loudly while their hooves stomped at the ground. Aquamarine eyes riddled with wet despair abruptly spot a hole underneath a dead tree.

In a desperate attempt to save her life, Luxanna lunges towards the natural cavity formed between a nearly unearthed tree and the blanket of dead leaves and dirt accumulating underneath and around it. The tree's rotting roots almost facing the sky due to the steep angle of the scarred trunk bent backwards like a dying man staring at the sky. An abundance of bugs already feasting on the wooden flesh of the sleeping giant, moving about erratically across its hard wrinkled surface.

Lux does her best to ignore the feasting battalion of bugs as she hurriedly proceeds to cover her torn blue dress with a few handfuls of dead leaves to the best of her abilities, before suddenly stilling in her cramped hiding spot. The hooves of the horses are really close now, the crunching of leaves and the cracking of small twigs being crushed underfoot feeling the condemned blue-blooded woman with a growing sense of fear.

"Where is she?" Asks a gruff voice from somewhere behind her hiding spot, the hunting party's current position thankfully at the opposite side of the gaping schism were Lux had decided to seek shelter. The sound of horseshoes beating the earth keeps getting louder, however.

"The witch must be close," Says another one with unmistakable fervor. "She is on foot, and we would have seen her if we had passed by her." His voice sounding disturbingly closer. Were the riders moving forward adjacent to Luxanna's hiding spot or were they rounding her tree?

Somebody spits on the ground a few meters away from her, his voice harsh and audibly hateful. "Maybe the witch used her magic to transform into a woodland creature or a sea bird and hid in a hole or perched on one of the tree branches." The angry man says. "She doesn't have the guts to face us head on, like a true Demacian."

"Is it wise to still pursue her then?" A nervous soldier hesitantly asks from somewhere at the right of her tree. "What tells us that she won't be turning _us_ into squirrels and lizards this time? We need more men if we are to hunt such a powerful witch, Captain."

"The hunt continues until we find and bring back the witch." Luxanna's eyes widen when she recognizes her brother's voice. Her breathing hitches, her heartbeat stills. The runaway woman can only watch in sheer terror as she spots the long leg of a brown horse suddenly peek through the crooked opening of her hiding place. Somewhere among the foliages a raven caws mournfully, ominously.

"What is this?" The first soldier says as he dismounts and kneels near the place where Lux had stumbled a few moments ago. "Aha!" The pleased soldier exclaims victoriously a second later while clutching at a torn piece of blue fabric that had been stuck on the bump of an extruding tree root. "I found a scrap of the witch's dress! She must be nearby!"

Lux gulps as she anxiously closes her eyes beneath her cover of dead leaves, a silent prayer forming on her lips, the cold of the damp earth underneath her back slowly seeping into her being, like the chilling embrace of death, the welcoming of the wandering spirits. As if to confirm the doomed light mage's gloomy thoughts, the raven on the tree branch caws a second time.

"You think she could be in there?" The nervous soldier from before wonders as another rider on horseback reluctantly approaches the small schism under the tree roots.

"Only one way to find out." Another replies and Luxanna starts shivering when the man's words are instantly accompanied by the screeches of razor-sharp swords coming out of their respective sheaths.

One by one the armed Demacian soldiers dismount and approach Luxanna's hiding spot. A glinting sword is raised cautiously above the blanket of dead leaves, the point of the sharp Demacian steel unwittingly aimed straight for Luxanna's concealed chest below the fragile shroud of disintegrating foliages.

The sword swiftly descends. A pained scream is torn from the lips of the bleeding Crowguard.

"Captain!" The soldier that was about to impale Lux screams, his sword hovering mere inches above the heart of the frightened blonde mage.

"It's an ambush!" The most fearful of the bunch screams, another arrow finding its way into a soldier's leg through the gaps in the armor of the bulky man. Not even a meter away from Lux's hiding spot, two men are attempting to drag Garen away from the barrage of stone-tipped arrowheads that are raining down from between ancient tree barks and unmoving thickets alike.

"The Captain is injured! Retreat!" An arrow narrowly misses the armored man's neck by mere inches. "RETREAT!" Screams the soldier again as he clears the distance between himself and his horse and hastily jumps on the saddle.

Minutes after the hurried galloping of the fleeing men fades, the forest is once again engulfed by blessed silence. Lux remains perfectly still, eyes slowly opening moving sideways, carefully examining the quiet world outside appearing at the edge of her vision.

The blue-blooded outcast takes a few slow controlled breaths as she tries to spot something –anything moving outside of her hiding place without her announcing her presence. Nothing…

A raven then lands just in front of her, staring at her through the opening of the earthly damp schism that Lux had found shelter in. The raven's cold orbs instantly meet those of the speechless exiled aristocrat and Lux can actually see the underlying intelligence hidden behind the small creature's sharp amber-colored eyes.

And then suddenly, even though Lux hadn't taken her eyes off the unnerving bird's cunning amber orbs and nothing could have possibly changed in the span of a single heartbeat, the blonde Demacian mage finds herself staring at the honey-colored eyes of a black-haired woman instead of the eerie beady orbs of the strange raven.

"Get out of there, child." The hooded witch commands and Lux is so surprised by the shapeshifter's sudden appearance that she jolts backwards and hits her head against the schism's filthy walls, a pained moan unwittingly escaping from the lips of the exiled mage. The hooded stranger frowns.

"Leave her be, Emilia. If the idiot prefers to stay here until the knights come back with reinforcements, then so be it." Another stranger abruptly emerges from amidst the tree trunks and bushes with an oaken bow held in one hand. The new arrival doesn't wear a hood allowing Lux to take note of the young archer's long brown trenches and chocolate-colored eyes, azure war paint forming delicate circles and thin twirls across the woman's exposed arms, forehead and attractive cheekbones.

"We don't abandon our kin, Ashe." The one named Emilia replies even though her scowl remains strong. "There are few of us as it is, abandoning a Gifted to the knights would just bring us closer to annihilation."

The rough-spoken archer curses quietly under her breath, narrowed eyes balefully pointed at poor Lux. Tiny wisps of cold fog start leaking out from the clenched fists of the brunette woman, the sturdy oaken wood trapped in-between Ashe's death grip slowly being covered with a fragile layer of ice. "You will be coming with us, if you know what's good for you, little blue-blood." The archer growls warningly.

Emilia sighs, but doesn't chastise Ashe for her approach. After all, the knights would have undoubtedly reached the capital by now, time was of the essence.

* * *

 **Extra:**

And then suddenly, even though Lux hadn't taken her eyes off the unnerving bird's cunning amber orbs and nothing could have possibly changed in the span of a single heartbeat, the blonde Demacian mage finds herself staring at the honey-colored eyes of a male Yordle instead of the eerie beady orbs of the strange raven.

"Caw, caw! Mothafacka!" Ravenborn Teemo yells and Lux is so surprised by the shapeshifter's sudden appearance that she jolts backwards and hits her head against the schism's filthy walls, a pained moan unwittingly escaping from the lips of the exiled mage. The edgy Yordle frowns.

"Leave her be, Teemo. If the idiot prefers to stay here until the knights come back with reinforcements, then so be it." Another liliputian stranger abruptly emerges from amidst the tree trunks and bushes with an oaken bow held in one hand. The new arrival doesn't wear a hood allowing Lux to take note of the tiny archer's long purple trenches and jade-colored eyes, purple war paint forming delicate circles and thin twirls across the yordle woman's exposed arms, forehead and pouting cheekbones.

"We don't abandon our kin, Lulu." The one named Sexmo replies even though his scowl remains strong. "There are few of us as it is, abandoning a Yordle to the knights would just bring us closer to annihilation."

"W-what?" Stutters Lux confused and suddenly the blonde Demacian realizes that her arms are covered in soft yellow fur and that she is as short as the two strangers. Teemo smiles almost soothingly as he places a palm on Lux's trembling shoulder."

"It's all Yordle now" The handsome scout whispers and sky blue orbs just blink confusedly.

"Caw, caw!" Then Teemo abruptly yelps spooking Lux for the second time that day.

* * *

 **Sexmo is back, everything is good again in this world.**


	95. A different meeting

**Summary: What if Vi didn't participate in the mine heist and never met Caitlyn there. How would those two's paths cross then? Would they even meet at all?  
**

 **Tags: Vi, Caitlyn, Drama? I can't tell because I have no feelings.  
**

* * *

"Come on…" A certain pink-haired gang member mumbles distractedly as she attempts to repair a stolen air-filtering unit set on her workbench, sparks flying about the dimly lit room as the tattooed crook tries to modify the damaged circuits of the rusted machine with the aid of a makeshift welding torch. 'Torch' being a generous word for the contraption of course, since the _welding torch_ clenched in-between Vi's bandaged hands was in reality nothing more than a commercial Hex-tech pen with an upped energy output. Placed precautious far away from the edge of the young criminal's workbench a pathetic excuse for an antique transistor keeps alternating between posh instrumental songs and emergency news broadcasts from the heart of Piltover.

-It's been less than two weeks since the Sheriff's abrupt disappearance and the crime rates in both Piltover and Zaun have evidently skyrocketed as predicted by the-

Vi snorts as she switches off her makeshift welding torch, raises her darkened goggles over her eyebrows and inspects the fused circuits with a critical eye before lowering her protective eyewear once again with an agitated growl.

-Riots and protests seem to be taking place almost daily, the protesters demanding the return of Officer Caitlyn Remington with the PPD appearing incapable of resolving the issue. Returning back to our original story, the authorities are still baffled by the Sheriff's sudden disappearance and suspect foul play. "The Zaunite Chem-Baron's are probably involved." Confidently comments commissioner Cogwheel when asked to share his thoughts about the subject-

The pinkette's leg taps at the dusty floor underneath it excitably as Vi continues tinkering with the stolen air purifier in front of her, the tattooed woman's tongue comically peeking out from the corner of her mouth in immense concentration as flashes of light flare and then fade. Blinding sparks being reflected against the dark surface of Vi's steampunk welding goggles like shooting starts beautifully traversing across the cloudless night sky.

-"I want to see my little girl return home safely." Says Mrs. Remington in an exclusive interview for Smog-Breather. "This corrupt city can burn down to the ground for all I care, I just want my Caitlyn home safe and sound!" Mr. Remington has swiftly intervened to put an end to the interview after that statement, however. "Please, forgive my wife's outburst. Of course we care about what happens to Zaun and Piltover," The patriarch of the Remington family stated firmly as he ushered us towards the door. "My wife is still mourning the loss of our little girl. Karol you see, doesn't want to believe that our Caitlyn isn't alive-

The quick tapping against the floor turns into irritable stomping when the Hex-tech device in front of Vi suddenly expels a thin thread of black smoke along with the distinct scent of burnt electronics and hisses like a coiled snake.

"Cog dammit!" The pinkette exclaims as she tiredly reclines back in her chair and sets her welding torch and welding goggles on top of the messy grey workbench. And that was her last Hex-stabilizer too! Now Grax would pester her about being a burden to the rest of the crew and threaten to throw her back in the streets where the gang leader had originally found her.

And the cruel bastard would do it too, at a moment's notice! Except… if Vi somehow managed to solve the problem by herself, before Grax realized that she had messed up the job she had been tasked with.

'Hey, weren't there a few Hex-stabilizers in the gang's storage room?' Vi mentally wonders.

The tattooed pinkette's eyes narrow in thought as Vi attempts to place all the things that she and her fellow goons had stolen from Hex-tech workshops and stripped off old malfunctioning machines that were thrown away by their owners. Some of the goods would be so utterly trashed that were sold to junkyards as scrap metal, others were simply repaired and then bought by second-hand shops. What little remained after that was stored away in the basement to be later used as spare parts, unless some gullible customer or odd collector appeared to purchase them.

"Let's see…" The brash pinkette mutters in thought. "The service drones we got last week are no good, the parts taken from the prosthetics shop would be incompatible.. Hmm…" Vi's sky blue orbs close until they are two twin azure slits gazing at the ceiling. "What was it that Grax and the others had stolen last week again?" Vi couldn't remember for the death of her since she had been busy repairing things and sorting through Hex-tech equipment after being placed in tinkerer duty for an entire mouth or so.

"Didn't we have a box of various odds and ends somewhere in the basement, anyways?" The image of a medium-sized cardboard box finally resurfaces in the rebellious pinkette's mind.

Still uncertain, but filled with hope for once Vi gets up from her raggedy seat and leaves her bedroom, heading for the rickety staircase that was located near the entrance of the gang's hideout. The position of the storage room had been a strategic one after all, ensuring that the loot would be able to be transferred quickly in case of a sudden PPD raid.

Even better, the basement was connected with the sewer network via a reinforced door that was always locked. Vi would know, since she had been charged with making sure that the emergency exit was shut airtight and that none of the toxic fumes coming from the sewers would seep through from under the door's crack and kill them all in their sleep, for the first four years after her joining Grax's crew. Good times…

The cold fluorescent lamps above her head come into life with a startled buzz as Vi slowly makes her way towards the basement of the hideout. The pinkette's surprisingly light footsteps, muffled by a life of trying to avoid detection from police officers, crooks and potential pickpocketing targets alike, echoing softly in the relative silence of the abandoned rundown staircase. Vi absentmindedly wonders if the heist at the mines is going according to plan as she unlocks the door and enters the storage room with an annoyed bored sigh.

"Damn Grax and his arrogant ass, stealing the power crystals from those mines was my plan all along, I should be taking a part in the heist, not spend my time fucking fixing ovens and toasters."

The pinkette's voice abruptly fades when Vi turns the lights on and sees the collapsed figure that's lying on the floor. Sky Blue eyes widen in shock when they meet those weak and unfocused brown orbs, her mouth gaping open when the frothing handcuffed police officer's gaze mindlessly sinks back to the concrete ground.

"W-what the actual fuck?" The violent gang member stutters in a surprised whisper as she hastily approaches the shivering brunette woman that's lying on the floor. Vi recognizes her immediately from her missing posters.

The trembling Sheriff of Piltover is still wearing her signature purple dress even though it is torn and ruined beyond repair. Stained with blood, vomit, sweat and Cogs know what else, the Sheriff's bruised face is resting against the basement's dirty floor. Caitlyn's expression exhausted and visibly dazed, vacant, drool and some kind of froth slowly dripping down from the corner of the barely conscious woman's mouth. Caitlyn seems to have some trouble breathing.

It is only after Vi is close enough to take a look at the filthy tearstained face of the brunette policewoman and starts checking the captured Piltovian for wounds that she comes across the abundance of fresh needle marks littering the drugged quivering woman's bare arms. As if on cue the battered Sheriff starts hurling on the floor before releasing a hoarse and pained groan.

Vi's hands ball up into fists that are tightening considerably the more the impulsive pink-haired street rat is staring at the drugged seizuring Sheriff. Stormy aquamarine orbs focused intently on the dirt-caked face of Piltover's missing beacon of hope. Meanwhile Caitlyn just coughs and shivers weakly.

The female pinkette rascal hesitates for only a moment before she kneels down and carefully lifts the disoriented brunette woman from the vomit-covered floor. Dazed brown orbs minutely sway upwards to meet Vi's gaze.

"You _so_ owe me one, Cupcake." Vi mutters irritably spiting out the last word as she proceeds to carry Caitlyn out of the depressing storage room. The Sheriff moans something inaudible before she promptly passes out with her head resting against Vi's chest.


	96. The gypsy curse

**Summary: A short snippet created to quickly ship two particular characters. Rated M for mentions of sexual abuse. Yuri Tag, Katarina.**

Katarina closes her eyes as she lets the warm water cascading down her sore body wash away her tiredness along with her sweat and the strong scent of sex from her skin. A small almost content hum minutely escaping from the redheaded assassin's lips, Katarina's body posture relaxing a bit further even with the red nail marks still aching across her back and the bruises of iron handcuffs still accented against her wrists like purplish coils. With her emerald orbs Katarina tentatively attempts to snake a hand against her velvety abused entrance only for her to hiss in pain and instantly move her hand away from her core. The redheaded assassin's facial feature's morphing into a pained grimace, emerald eyes opening and narrowing in annoyance even as the Noxian aristocrat turns off the water and grabs a clean tower from one of the bathrooms cupboards.

' _Damn LeBlanc and her clone for having the guts to double-team her!'_ The Sinister Blade scoffs bitterly inside her head and for a quick moment there Katarina can almost taste Emilia's nectar on the tip of her tongue, hear the illusionist's mocking voice behind her ear and sense two pairs of fake members lining up before her sore entrance.

The temperamental redhead can only sigh in defeat as she proceeds to wipe her bruised body with a towel and then wrap a new one around her frame before heading for her bedroom. Thoughts of her getting back at LeBlanc for taking advantage of her current situation relentlessly pestering her until Katarina begrudgingly sinks under the bed's warm covers.

Who would have thought that the gypsy's curse would actually be the real deal and will start killing her if she didn't have sex with another champion of the League once per day? Who would have thought that non-consensual acts wouldn't count towards her daily quota?

…Who would have thought that Katarina would be born in the worst city-state to be under the influence of such a curse, with all the sadistic and arrogant men and women, the mighty champions of dear Noxus, readily treating her like a worthless fuck-toy upon finding out of her magical ailment?

And to add insult to injury every single one of those bastards seemed to have a grudge against her for some reason…

Katarina sighs as she attempts to hopefully find some rest in a nice dreamless sleep. The fiery redhead's mind already pondering upon who will be the next bitch or bastard she will have to do come down in order to stop the pain under her chest and the shaking of her powerless numb digits.

A grinning picture of a winged ostracized sorceress finally flashes behind her jade-colored eyes and Katarina sighs once more in irritation.

Perhaps she should find a spouse from another city-state.

/

"What exactly happened in mid lane, Sinister Blade? There is just no way Veigar got the drop on you five consecutive times in a row."

The redheaded assassin merely scoffs and turns around on her heels, Katarina's vision already blurry and unfocused, small tremors running along the length of her spine. The obscured skin under her rich scarlet hairline glistering with cold sweat. Katarina needed a lay, and she needed it fucking yesterday.

A strong arm suddenly reaches out and grabs Katarina's wrist forcing the Noxian aristocrat to either turn around and face her clearly disappointed teammate or slump down on the floor due to the abrupt weakness overcoming her body. Katarina obviously chooses the first one.

"Don't walk away from me when I am talking to you. Your myriad of deaths in the mid lane may have as well cost us the match, today. Veigar had already completed his build by the 13' minute mark if that is even possible! The least you could do is to apologize to your teammates for your bad performance."

The grim-faced champions behind the Ionian Captain either murmur their agreements or nod their heads and glare at her. Katarina however is too dizzy to care about hurting the feelings of a few weak-minded clowns. She really needed a damn lay, damn it!

The redheaded woman remains silent as she tugs on her restrained arm only for it to refuse to budge an inch. Irelia narrows her eyes irritably.

"You aren't going anywhere until you either apologize to us, or explain to me why you didn't signal that Veigar was missing from mid lane all game. Come on, Du Couteau. I don't like having to work with you either, but I deal with it, and you should also do your best to deal with it too-"

Irelia is totally unprepared for when the redheaded assassin practically lunges at her and kisses her, the fiery Noxian assassin even going as far as pushing her tongue into the stunned Captain's oral cavity with sudden fervor born from her desperation. The champions that are standing behind the two women gasp in response and it takes Irelia a few slim seconds to realize what's happening so she can push the Noxian redhead away.

Katarina stumbles back and almost falls on her butt from the mighty push of the Ionian Captain, but somehow manages to regain her balance at the last second and steadies herself before wiping at her mouth and shunpo-ing away from the crowded summoning chamber. Irelia is left frozen in shock, two fingers unwittingly rising to touch at her lips lightly.

* * *

 **Notes: A quick something I cooked up to make Irelia x Katarina shippable. I am pretty happy with how I managed to avoid the cliché heat solution, and how Katarina managed to maintain some of her dignity/identity despite the awful circumstances she was in. That one was another point I feel happy about since Kat didn't instantly turn into a sobbing mush and treated the curse like a mere inconvenience instead of feeling trapped and threatened like Lux or Quinn might do in her place. Katarina isn't overly innocent and knows about hardships and how to ignore pain, I tried to emphasize that in this piece.**


	97. The unkind raven

**Summary: A short lighthearted piece written in a simple manner to get an idea out of my mind.**

 **Tags: Sona, Vayne, Friendship.**

The grand Field of Justice abruptly comes to life as Sona Buvelle suddenly materializes onto the familiar runic altar located at the very edge of the Summoner's Rift. Magical structures around the recovering well humming quietly as if to welcome the mute champion, the mindless puppets known as minions gradually awakening from the dreamless and peaceful slumber of nonexistence.

Sona smiles when she spots her disoriented teammates. The mute musician plays a few chords on her Etwahl composing a light musical tune as if in greeting. Nasus nods his head at the Maven of Strings before heading for his lane, Annie waves at her, Amumu shuffles about shyly. Vayne mutters something inaudible under her breath and gestures for her to hurry as she hastily darts towards the bottom lane.

Sona sighs quietly before buying her starting items from the shop and hurriedly following the solitary Night Hunter to the bottom lane.

The voice of an invisible woman loudly announces that the match has begun. Sona attempts to glide forward faster.

/

Despite the two Demacian champions lack of communication Sona and Vayne were faring surprisingly well in bot lane, pocking and punishing Ashe and Tahm Kench whenever the enemy duo attempted to approach and slay their minions to claim their gold.

"Ward the river while Ashe and Tahm Kench aren't around." Shauna instructs whilst killing minions under their tower. Sona responds at her by playing a merry musical tune. Without further delay the blue-haired woman enters the bush that leads towards the river. Only to come face to shade with the shadowy visage of the enemy jungler, Nocturne, the Eternal Nightmare.

Sona's eyes open wide in fear, the Maven's mouth opening in an instant to utter a silent and frightened warning scream. The Eternal Nightmare's twisted visions shrouding the kind support's mind the next moment, Sona's eyes minutely rolling back inside her head as her mindscape becomes a mirage of pure agony and unfathomable fear.

Dark visions blossom inside the Maven's vulnerable mind, scenes of terror and terrible loss. Noxians surrounding her with lecherous eyes, her adopted family dying tragically either by flame or incurable disease, the friends that Sona had manage to make after joining the Institute of War mocking her for being a mute and looking at her with mockery, pity and disdain in their hostile eyes.

For what must have been only a couple of seconds, but seems to Sona like an eternity the mute support feels as if her heart is being pierced by a dozen invisible blades. A quiet sob leaves the former orphan's quivering her lips, tears of both fear and loss rolling down the blue-haired musician's stunned visage. If Sona had been born with the ability to speak, the mute Maven would be screaming her lungs out right now.

Just as Sona's health bar is about to drain completely and her heart feels like it is going to burst, the terrible visions shatter with the pained roar of the nightmarish being. Nocturne bellows and writhes in pain from his position pinned against the jungle's wall by an enormous silver-tipped bolt. More projectiles rain down his body as the wounded fiend attempts to move towards the bottom lane and reach the ephemeral safety of his tower. Shauna's crossbow bolts tearing the shadowy flesh of the dream demon apart, before a critical hit abruptly causes Nocturne to finally perish in a majestic explosion of dispelling darkness.

Shauna's pale visage and scarlet orbs turn towards the knelt blue-haired woman then. Sona is obviously still in shock, trembling violently while hugging herself in a futile attempt to stop her shaking and feel safe. Vayne's lips form a thin life as she slowly kneels next to the mute blue-haired support.

"Are you alright?" The pale huntress asks in her rough and remorseless voice making Sona flinch in response. Vayne sighs when the poor Maven of the Strings shakes her head while looking at her with big wet eyes that are currently akin to those of a cornered animal or a hurt frightened puppy. The two women remain silent for a while, with Sona trembling shell-shocked on the grass and Vayne staring at her with a complex expression perched on her face.

"We have been kneeling here for quite some time now," The Night Hunter suddenly mutters irritably and Sona shakily lowers her head feeling ashamed and guilty for wasting the brooding markswoman's time. "And when you are kneeling for so long like this, your legs inevitably fall asleep and you might stumble when you try to stand up."

The mute support just blinks in confusion. Raising her head in order to observe the older, black-haired woman Sona find out that Vayne has already turned her face away from her hiding her reddening visage.

"Gah!" Shauna then grunts as her body abruptly surges forward, the Night Hunter's arms suddenly engulfing the shaken support in a warm and tight embrace. Sona can only blink in response, her mind still struggling to register that Vayne was actually hugging her, and out of her own free will at that, without anybody holding her at gunpoint.

"Now look at what you've done." Shauna mutters heatedly with her warm cheek pressed against that of the dumbfounded Maven. "My legs have gone numb and they will probably need some time to recover…"

With a final surprised blink Sona giggles quietly as she also wraps her arms around the warm body of Demacia's most deceptively unkind brooder. 'Thank you' The mute blue-haired woman mouths quietly even though she knows that Vayne most definitely won't be able to hear her words of gratitude. So Sona slightly turns her head around and kisses Shauna's red cheek for good measure.


	98. Vac24 Cass X Lux

**Lux and Cassiopeia. Yuri.  
**

"You've made a terrible mistake trying to infiltrate this house, Miss Crownguard," Cassiopeia seductively purrs at the tied blonde spy that's perched on her tail. A taloned hand rises to grip the zipper of the Demacian noblewoman's skintight bodysuit. "A terrible mistake indeed, I will help you realize that in the coming years." The cursed redhead reassures, Luxanna's zipper lazily sliding down.

"W-wait!" The restrained light mage frantically stutters with a deep blush in sudden fright. The handcuffs wrapped around the petite infiltrator's wrists clearly reflected on the surface of the grand ornate mirror behind her. "Y-you can't do this to me! I am a noble for one and two, both of us are women."

The Serpent's Embrace grins almost kindly at the other mage, and yet poor Luxanna's zipper doesn't falter at all as it continues its lazy and graceful descent exposing more of the soft fair skin of the visibly flustered light mage.

"You _were_ a noble, Miss Crownguard." Cassiopeia ominously corrects the captured blonde spy as the zipper finds the end of the zip line just below Lux's bellybutton." But now you aren't anymore, now you are merely my property. A toy I can play with and abuse to my heart's content."

Luxanna's already prominent blush triples in intensity as the light mage spots Cassiopeia's coy grin. The blonde aristocrat's heartbeat quickening when a taloned hand tenderly grabs her chin and forces Lux to look straight into the lamia's exotic eyes.

"And as for your other argument... Let's just say that I can't be picky in my condition." The Serpent's Embrace other hand slithers inside the blonde spy's bodysuit, sharp nails racking at Luxanna's back almost affectionately. "I have to do with you I suppose…"

The captured light mage glances sideways in order to escape her captor's lustful gaze.

"B-but you will let me go after you are done right?" The blonde spy tries again, the shards of frail hope tinting her tone. The humanoid serpent snorts mockingly.

"Of course not." The transformed Noxian purrs at her trapped quarry. "Now that I've captured you, you are mine for life, you silly girl."

"Mine to use whoever I please." The cursed seductress whispers as her face approaches that of Lux, the tip of Cassiopeia's tail abruptly pressed against the blushing blonde woman's back keeping the spy in place.

"Mine to ravish, to break and to defile." The redheaded lamia lowly growls next as the sharp fingernails previously scratching the Crownguard's back now circle around to rest against one of Lux's breast eliciting a small whimper from the other woman.

"Mine to..." Cassiopeia pause's as she stares into her wife's beautiful sky blue orbs. "Cherish for the rest of my life..." The Noxian lamia finishes in an affectionate tone as she gently plants her lips against those of Luxanna's.

"You broke character," the Demacian aristocrat murmurs accusingly a few moments later as she pouts at her serpentine lover. Cassiopeia merely replies by pushing the flustered light mage closer to her with her snake tail.

"I did not," The cursed redhead confidently reassures her younger wife, "I still fully intend to ravish you, my beautiful captive."

* * *

 **Extra:** "Aaaaah! C-Cassyyyy!" The loud ecstatic screams of the blonde vixen rise and crash down like a wave bouncing off the sturdy walls of the Du Couteau mansion.

"Sometimes I wish that I was an only child." Katarina tiredly mutters in exasperation from her pillow as the frantic screams emanating from the adjacent wall seem to gradually rise and peak in intensity, the young redheaded assassin's body still glistering with sweat from her previous activities.

"I agree." Lying nude on the very same bed, Talon nods his head as he takes another whiff out of his lit cigarette and lets the smoke dance towards the ceiling.

"I don't mind the noise." Teemo states also naked and lying between the two Noxian siblings. "If anything they motivate me to seduce the rest of your family." He slyly adds as if in afterthought. Teemo then kisses the two assassins on the cheek and happily walks towards the bathroom.

"I am never getting drunk ever again," Katarina growls as she starts crushing her face with a pillow. Talon simply mutters his agreement with vacant and bloodshot eyes.


	99. Lux, shower misunderstanding

**Tags: Lux, Riven, Sejuani, Sona, Kalista. Comedy.**

Riven sighs as she wills the hot water springing from the showerhead above to wash away the stiffness of her shoulders and the terrible exhaustion weighting her body. Today had been a real disaster so far! Skillful opponents and rude amateurish teammates, a Summoner had the bright idea of sending her to support Draven at the bottom lane, whereas for some reason two of her last teams were entirely consisted of spiteful Noxians that either dubbed her a weakling or a traitor.

The albino defector heaves another long-winded sigh as she lightly presses a fist against the damp white tiles of her shower booth. Riven's ears perk up when she hears the shower room's door open and then close, the last swarm of champions departing for the changing room outside whilst gossiping.

"What am I even doing here, wasting my time in the shower when I should be training and getting stronger?" Riven mumbles quietly to herself under the continuous barrage of the falling droplets. The pale Noxian warrior decides to just wipe herself with a towel and follow her peers outside after standing alone in the shower booth for a couple more seconds brooding.

Riven promptly turns the right valve, stemming the flow of water. The stoic albino swordswoman then opens the door of her shower booth only to come face to face with Kalista, the spectral Spear of Vengeance. The puzzled Noxian warrior slightly bows her head in greeting and then attempts to bypass the haunting spectacle of the ghostly woman. Kalista seems to have some business with her, however.

"Exile…" The wrath's reverberating voice echoes across the empty shower room making the Noxian swordswoman freeze in her tracks. "Noxus betrayed you and your comrades, and yet its treacherous influence still remains unpunished."

"Take the oath." The malevolent spirit echoes as it wraps its incorporate hands around the black spear that's protruding from its body. "Pledge your alliance to us." The weapon slides out of the flickering silhouette of the ghost with a terrible sound. "Pierce your heart with this spear and Vengeance! Will. Be. Ours!"

...

* * *

 **0000**

"That was a great match, guys!" Lux praises her teammates as they all head towards the shower room, two pink towels and a bottle of shampoo clasped against the Demacian mage's chest. Luxanna mirthfully skips ahead of her company. Sejuani blatantly ignores her, Sona offers the bubbly light mage a quirky musical tune in reply.

Lux is still wearing a big easy smile on her lips as she raises a hand to grasp at the shower room's doorknob.

" _Take the... Spear... Be Ours!"_ A loud reverberating voice suddenly bellows from the other side of the door. The blonde Demacian blue-blood blinks in confusion. _'Was her entrance about to interrupt a love confession or something?_ ' Luxanna muses abruptly perplexed, the light mage's hand hesitating over the shower room's doorknob.

" _D-don't be ridiculous!"_ Riven's voice instantly blurts from the other side of the door sounding flustered. "There is no way I am going to shove this thing in my..." The rest of the Exile's words are muffled by the thick door splitting the room from the corridor and Luxanna's rapidly accelerating heartbeat.

' _Oh Gods!'_

The Demacian noblewoman instantly recoils away from the door, her towels and shampoo bottle unwittingly falling from her hands as Luxanna uses her palms to cover her beet red ears. The light mage's face a bright red, near scarlet with embarrassment.

' _That wasn't a love confession!'_ Lux instantly realizes with another flash of heat rising up to her face. ' _S-she was about to intrude upon... K-Kalista and Riven were... Those two were...!'_

Minutely distracted due to taking quick deep breaths while trying to calm down, the blonde mage jolts in fright when somebody places a soft hand against her left shoulder.

A very flustered young Crownguard literally pivots on her heels in order to face an equally confused and surprised Sona, Sejuani following shortly behind the Maven of Strings with a bored expression worn on her face.

"I'm sorry for startling you Sona." Lux nervously finds herself apologizing at the blue-haired support even though she had been the one that had almost died from a heart attack a few seconds ago. The light mage backtracks until her small frame is pressed flat against the door of the shower room.

" _It might hurt a little at first, and yes there will certainly be some blood to clean off the floor,"_ The reverberating voice sternly admits right behind Luxanna's hot ear. _"But the pain will fade away before you know it, Exile. There is nothing for you to be afraid of, I.. will be gentle..."_

"You are acting strange." Sejuani suspiciously comments when she notices how bright red Lux's face is and the saucer-like size of the blonde aristocrat's bulging sky blue eyes.

" _Hmp, as if a Noxian would be afraid of such a thing as pain. And yet, I will have to decline your tempting offer, spirit. I am not ready to forsake everything I know and pledge myself to you for eternity."_

" _You would deny our pact?! Our goal? Our bond just like that? Does taking- me- nothing to you?"_ Kalista's muffled voices continues harshly.

 _'Uh-oh! It seems like the indecent couple inside was in the midst of clearing some important issues.'_ The light mage concluded urgently.

"M-me acting strange? Haha! N-not at all!" Luxanna stutters with a wide fake smile dancing across her lips. "You're the one acting strange, not me, Sejuani! Is there something troubling you perhaps?" The Demacian noblewoman's artificial cheerful guise suddenly rearranging itself into a mask of pure panic when the huge Freljordian warlord abruptly steps forward to enter the shower room.

"You can't go in there!" The blonde light mage frantically screams as she latches onto the Freljordian woman's arm like an affectionate overexcited monkey.

"And why is that?" Sejuani gruffly mutters while trying to shake Lux off her arm with the shorter woman clinging on the white-haired warlord's appendage for dear life. Sona is apparently content with just watching the bizarre interactions between her two teammates with a faint smile.

"The shower room is a mess!" Luxanna frantically yells as she wraps all of her limbs around the muscular arm of the barbarian warlord. "Rek'Sai has made numerous nests inside the shower booths! You can't even approach the showerheads now without falling into a tunnel! You fall down there and you will end up in Ionia! Forget about the damage caused by the fall, the culture shock alone will instantly kill you! It's like a fed Talon!"

"I will just plug the holes with ice." Sejuani states as she grabs Lux by the straps of her chest plate, but before the barbarian warrior has the chance to throw the blonde noblewoman on the floor Luxanna latches on the new appendage like a koala that's hanging from a tree branch.

"Nidalee has started shedding again!" The Demacia blue-blood exclaims as she eyes the shower room door worryingly. "You want cat fur on your nice... errr... fur boots? No, of course not! Come on Sejuani, let's use the showers at the opposite wing for a change!"

"I've bathed in frozen rivers exposed to the harsh elements and the predators that roam the icy plains. A few strands of cougar hair won't dissuade me from using the facilities here."

The Freljordian warlord takes another step towards the door, her free hand hovering over the pristine white doorknob causing Lux's heart to pummel inside her chest frantically. The panicked blonde light mage closes her eyes at the imminent havoc that is certainly about to ensue.

"Elise released a few billions of her Spiderlings in there!" The Demacian aristocrat all but shouts in immense despair. "They are huge, almost as tall as an adult yordle, with venomous fangs that are dripping lethal poison, mechanical drill-arms and red eyes that shoot lasers!"

…

Sejuani pauses and stops waving her arm to get rid of Lux. The tall warrior stares at the blushing blonde woman incredulously. "There are giant spiders in there?" The female barbarian slowly asks and Lux opens an eye to peek at the Winter's Wrath and vigorously shake her head up and down.

"With... drill-arms?" Sejuani questions looking uncertain once again. Meanwhile Sona has some trouble stifling her mute laughter.

"Mechanical drill-arms." Lux clarifies as she dares to open her other eye and examine the tense posture of the white-haired Freljordian warlord.

"And those spiders..." Sejuani continues reluctantly, the warrior's already pale complexion gradually draining of its little color. "Are able to shoot laser beams out of their eyes?" Sejuani drawls and Luxanna once again nods her head in quick agreement.

"Does this seem plausible to you?" The pale battle-hardened warrior turns to hesitantly address Sona. The Maven of the Strings merely shrugs with a polite smile and knowing look at her face. The tall barbarian pointedly averts her gaze.

"Well, we are at the Institute of War, dear Sejuani. Everything is possible here!" Lux rushes to helpfully state her thoughts in the currently ongoing conversation. The poor light mage finally untangling her legs from around the Winter Wrath's arm and carefully lowering herself to the floor as if she is climbing down from atop a tall palm tree.

"All right… Let's use the west wing shower room instead." Sejuani grudgingly concedes as she glances towards the closed door in front of her wearily. Sona and the Freljordian warlord silently follow the Demacian noblewoman's lead as a very giddy and secretly relieved Luxanna Crownguard proceeds to guide her two companions through the numerous crowded corridors of the Institute of War.

' _Good luck, you two.'_ Lux thinks as she leads her friends away from the secret couple's love-nest. _'I hope that the two of you will be happy together. Sniff, sniff, love is so beautiful.'_

Meanwhile Riven and Kalista are still arguing inside the shower room over the betrayed Noxian exile becoming the vengeful ghost's next Oathsworn.

"I've already said that I don't want your damn spear, so beat it!"

"What if I lube it first?"

"No! Get out!"

* * *

 **Extra:** "Fucking hell!" The tall Freljordian woman screams as her wide sky blue eyes take in the sights of the west shower room. The ominous purple holes littering the ground, the enormous piles of shed cat fur, the abandoned modified Zz'Rot Poltral by the door that's spawning deformed spiderlings with drill-arms and scarlet eyes that shoot crimson lasers. "You said it was the other shower room!" Sejuani accuses Lux as she hurriedly closes the door and starts sealing it with ice. The stunned light mage just blinks owlishly, too shocked to talk and slightly fearful.

 **Vac Day 25: You can probably speculate my mood by the fact that I wasted time to write this little snippet.**


	100. Sea snake, a new ship is born every day

**Tags: Cassiopeia, Gangplank, Comedy.**

 **Beta reader: Gmp1000**

The scurvy sea dog's expression darkens as the ragged malnourished excuse for a sailor all but shoves his old cracked spyglass into his left empty eye socket and then draws in a rickety, odorous breath through his mouth before his tanned face turns into a fearful grimace.

"There is no land on sight for miles me Cap'tan! Thy heavens themselves are shrouded in dark like the rotted guts of the ship's rats! We 'val doomed fer' certain!" The raspy sea dog yells in genuine horror, and Gangplank swears aloud before the notorious Scrounge of Bilgewater whacks the foul-breathed pirate on the head with his bare knuckles.

"Yar staring at the spyglass through your missing eye, you brainless skunk! Swap the telescope and tell me what you see 'fore I ran you through with me sword like a swine!"

The moronic sailor goes deathly pale when he hears those terrifying words. His fingers fumbling with the old spyglass until he places its smaller fogged lens against his functional bloodshot grey eye.

"Land ahoy! Land on sight! Land on sight straight ahead, me Cap'tan! Tis a beauty it is, a small town ready fer the takin'" Yells the scarred toothless sailor.

Gangplank nods his head once. He then whips out his trusty pistol and shoots the unlucky man in the chest. The one-eyed pirate goes down without a sound, he merely collapses with his bony arms clenching his bleeding chest and a pitiful exhale of stale air.

"Ready yarselves you worthless sea dogs, load the cannons and pull up the flag! Tis a fine day for pillaging you gutless sea monkeys!" Shouts the greedy captain.

The rest of the crew rushes to obey Gangplank's orders. Not even a single man blinking or showing surprise at the swift execution of their now deceased crewmate. The bundle of weathered fierce pirates climbs over the rails and raises the flag, an utterly disturbing tune narrating their cruel captain's inhumane acts of naval crime and plundering peeling off the dry throats of Gangplank's merry band of thieves and soulless murderers.

...

"The Dead Pool's on the horizon! The Dead Pool's on the horizon!" The terrified cries of the scattering townsfolk spread the dreadful news of Gangplank's imminent arrival as the helpless civilians either bar their doors or grab their valuables and flee the town with haste. How far would those hysterical deserters that were protectively clutching their silver candlesticks and jewelry boxes against their chests get before they were spotted by the pirate crew was better left unsaid, since there wasn't enough island for those poor souls to hide from the fury of Gangplank.

"The Dead Pool's on the horizon! The Dead Pool's on the horizon." The fleeing masses scream. The church's bell is still ringing adding its mournful sound to the horrendous scene. Priests palm their preying beads, drunkards stumble away from the port in confusion with unsteady and uncertain, swaying strides.

And then Gangplank's ship boards the small fishing town, the ravenous pirates are unleashed on the streets like a bunch of laughing hyenas. Gunshots and screaming shroud the towns port, the clanking of steel echoes behind shut window shutters, the scent of gunpowder and blood engulfs the fishermen's residence. Finally the church's bell suddenly stills, the flames of the burning island dancing orange on the rim of the giant metal pear.

A few minutes later the Pirate Lord's ship abandons the town, and like the ghosts of drown sailors strolling below the waves, one by one the remaining survivors of the destroyed fishing town crawl out of their hiding spots and stare at the blackened husks of their former dreams and ruined properties.

...

Gangplank can't help but huff as he examines the loot that his crew of murderers has dropped in front of his feet. An abundance of coins, iron, copper and silver are splayed on the deck like a thick blanket. Chandeliers, silverware and golden teeth, the occasional breathtaking statue carved from wood or semiprecious stone, the macabre shine of a bloodied wedding ring can also be found here and there. All in all, today's spoils were disheartening to say the least, but then again, Gangplank reminds himself that he only pillaged a small fishing town on the shore of a pathetic isle and not an overpopulated settlement near the mainland.

With a venomous last glance at the treasures that are spilt over the deck boards, Gangplank kicks a few coins away from his feet and turns around to head to his cabin. The sailors would know to give him the best of the loot, they would also know to give him half of their own share as well, or risk losing their lives.

"Cap'tan!" A pirate's voice abruptly makes the Scourge of Bilgewater pause. "There's a lass on the deck that wants to have a word with ya!"

Gangplank furrows his eyebrows. What kind of maddened landlubber would have the guts to seek him out amidst a pillaging? What kind of lightbrained shriveling scum would dare make a deal with him for their life? Now the infamous pirate captain was intrigued.

"Lead me to her." The black-hearted pirate grunts at the burly rugged man and the crew member rushes to comply with an 'Aye, Aye Cap'tan!'

Navigating between the canons, the masts and the excited scattered pockets of greedy sailors that are combing their remaining shares of the loot with dirty fingers and impatient stares, Gangplank and the burly rugged sea dog reach a place near the ship's bow where sailors seem to form a suffocating arc around the unexpected intruded. The admittedly imposing mass of bloodthirsty thieve and pirates may be obscuring the wench's form from the pirate's gaze, the stunned silence of the crew however does nothing to choke out the woman's aggravatingly condescending tone.

"Another sssstep back if you pleasssse, how do you expect me to wait here for your bosssss when your odor issss making me naussseousss?"

To Gangplank's immense displeasure and surprise his crew members actually do take a step back from the haughty wench.

"And offer me a drink at the very leassst. Won't your captain get angry if I curl up and die from dehydration? I do sssuppose that I am already feeling a little faint..."

Now closer to the source of the disturbance and after pushing his way towards the infuriating female sea-witch, Gangplank watches a short bearded pirate lift his flask and offer it at the cursed redheaded woman.

Instead of simply accepting the offered drink and be done with it Cassiopeia's face instantly scrunches up in distaste.

"You actually expect me to drink from thisss filthy thing?! When wasss the lassst time that you wassshed this flasssk?! You could have asss well told me to drink sssewer water!"

The Serpent' Embrace then notices the thunderous visage of the Pirate King and the troubled expression worn on the face of his burly anxious escort.

"I've brought my soup... s-oup.. brought my soup, ma'am." The nervous pirate blurts out at the cursed Noxian blueblood.

"Not sssoup, ssssuperior." Cassiopeia corrects the unnerved man with a long disappointed sigh. "You've brought me your sssuperior as in, your employer. Tell it with me, ssssuperior."

The scarred man takes a deep breath. "Sssouparior."

"Ssssuperior." Cassiopeia slowly mouths the word again.

"Ssssoupxerior." Answers the sailor, spittle flying out from his mouth due to his missing teeth.

"Sssssssssuperior." The redhead hisses like an angry snake, venom watering her lips this time.

"Ssssoup-eeeri-"

 _*Bang!_ Gangplank shoots the man dead and then stomps his way to the Noxian seductress. The cursed diplomat eyes the dying man on the floorboards and then crosses her arms over her chest with an unamused expression marring her face.

"He almosssst got it right at lassst." The lamia drawls as Gangplank stops in front of the glaring redhead.

"You no teach Gr-arrrr-mmer to me boys, ye foul wench!" The pirate king howls angrily enunciating the 'r' with an even mightier growl. "We salty dogs and sea scum don't need your fancy voc-arrrr-bulary on this fine vessel!"

Cassiopeia opens her mouth to reply.

"Arrrrr." The Scourge of Bilgewater adds in at the last possible second cutting the Noxian aristocrat off, making the serpentine seductress' left eye twitch dangerously and her peeved frown to darken.

"Grammar and pronuncccciation are necccessary partss of our language and sssshouldn't be disssmissssed whenever we pleassssse." The captured noblewoman hisses at the glaring pirate lord. "And why are you ssspeaking like thisss? Are you perhapsss mocking me?" Cassiopeia hisses.

"Arrrr? Mocking you?! You arrrr the one making fun of me! Keep doing this and you will be w-arrr-lking the plank, you vile wench! Yer'll be feeding the fish ye treacherous land-snake!"

 _Tap, tap, tap,_ the scaly tip of Cassiopeia's serpentine tail begins rapping on the deck's wooden boards while the seething lamia glares daggers at the cruel pirate lord.

"Asss if I have anything to fear from a ssssavage like you! And who are you calling a sssnake you incompetent bearded ape! What part of me specifically lookssss like a ssssnake, are you blind?!"

"Arrr! Bearded ape ye say!? Take that back, arrr! Or you will be dining in Davey Jones locker!"

"Isss that a dinner invitation or one of your hollow threatssss!? Becaussse I don't think that you're a man enough to entertain courting me, a Noxian heiresss and noblewoman." The cunning lamia smiles challengingly.

"Arrrr! Fine then, have at you!" The red-faced Pirate King loudly bellows in a fit of pure rage. "We be dining at nine, cutlass-sharp! Arrr!" Gangplank spits with contempt as he stomps away from the heaving lamia. He also shoots another sailor in the leg as he departs for good measure, the unlucky man collapsing on the deck with a startled scream as the Pirate King passes him by.

Cassiopeia scoffs at the gruesome spectacle of the injured man trying to stem his bleeding.

"Men…" The aggravated seductress mutters towards the direction that her newest date had disappeared. The Serpent's Embrace then turns towards the crowd of murderous scum fidgeting about sparing her fleeting glances.

"Now which one of you fine gentlemen will be leading me to my cabin?" The Noxian diplomat cocks an eyebrow at the assortment of nervous crooks. One of the pirates reluctantly steps forward and Cassiopeia tosses him her briefcase without a second glance.

"Thank you. Please, help me carry these to my room." The cursed seductress then eyes the rest of Gankplank's gawking crew members. " Also... one of you be a dear and go fetch me a bottle of Ionian mineral water." Cassiopeia instructs in a commanding tone. "I don't have any preferences on the brand." The haughty lamia grudgingly adds when the confused crew members fail to move and obey her simple order.

With an exasperated sigh Cassiopeia suddenly grabs the pistol of her escort and shoots once in the air. The hardened killers and battle-scarred veterans making up the Pirate King's crew hurriedly dash under the deck trying to appease the wrath of their captain's new date.

Cassiopeia merely rolls her eyes as she returns the pistol to her deathly pale escort and then refined and elegantly as always slithers away, following the frightened criminal's nervous footsteps.

* * *

 **Writer's note: I just wanted to play with pirate accents.**


	101. Faded glory & tavern ghosts

**Summary: The Noxian soldiers that died during the Zaunite bombardment were just used as a distraction while the majority of the Noxian forces infiltrated the Ionian capital overwhelming the remaining city guards and ending the war in Noxus' victory. Riven lost a lot that day. Her friends, her home, her ideals, her honor… She didn't flee from Noxus, however, and stayed with the rest of the Noxian forces occupying Ionian, letting herself simply fade in the background.**

 **Tags: Riven, Ahri, Irelia, Katarina, Drama.**

It is the sounds of loud laughter and screaming that rouse the hooded warrior from her sleep. Bloodshot red eyes slowly open drowsily examining the overturned empty rum bottle still resting beneath a scarred palm. Riven mumbles something against the table before the pale Noxian commander's eyes slowly close.

"Please, stop!" The feminine voice that had previously startled the inebriated commander in the first place shouts again with a delectable flare of despair. "She's had enough! You're killing her!"

"Good!" Answers one of the sneering drunk Noxian soldiers. "One less Ionian bitch to worry about! Am I right, boys?" The other Noxians in the room either cheer, or whistle, the Ionian servers on the other hand avert their eyes and hang their heads low in a display of shame.

Riven growls quietly as she attempts to get back to sleep even with the cheering of the tavern's patrons reverberating against the mud-brick walls and the scared woman's wails filling up her ears. Drunken fights like this between Ionians and their Noxian conquerors were quite frequent after all, especially when the _collars of obedience_ rendered the Ionians practically harmless and vulnerable. The enslaved Ionian people had soon learned to keep their heads down.

"I apologize for her spilling your drinks!" The crying Vastayan woman continues over the sound of violent thuds and loud groans as her wounded companion is repetitively stomped against the dusty floor boards. "I will buy you new drinks! A second and a third round, even. Just please, let my friend go. You've surely punished her enough, look she is barely breathing!"

"If that's all there is to a former Ionian hero, then perhaps breathing is too good for her!" Growls another inebriated soldier as he approaches the crying Vastayan woman. The Noxian warrior passes by Riven's table, accidentally bumping shoulders with the hunched swordswoman as he moves towards Ahri with heavy quick strides.

Riven frowns with her left cheek still pressed against the filthy wooden table, but doesn't really react to the happenings taking place around her otherwise.

Wet coughing starts echoing across the tense room, the unpleasant sound emanating from the collapsed figure that's lying on the dusty floor boards. The scared Vastayan woman's voice rises as she wraps her arms pleadingly around the elbow of an angry burly man.

"P-please, just stop. Let's just have a drink and get to know each other better, don't we?" The fox Vastayan's eyes momentary flicker with primal mana, before the runic collar around her neck grows a sickly green light and Ahri collapses on her knees with a pained shudder running though her body. The burly soldier's eyes widen in realization.

"Witchcraft!" Screams the drunk soldier at once. "The treacherous Ionian whore has just tried bewitching me!"

Ahri painfully lifts up her head, a delicate hand grasping at her sore collared throat and wet amber orbs that are visibly glinting with unshed tears trailing towards the Noxian man. "I'm sorry," The terrified fox pleads with a scratchy voice. "I'm so sorry, but you were going to kill my friend. P-please, forgive me." She whimpers pathetically.

The Noxian invader growls as he deftly pulls his arm out of the panicked Vastayan's grip and slaps Ahri with all his might. "Treacherous filth, you will die for that!' The scowling soldier grunts as Ahri's body collapses next to Riven's chair with much noise.

The inebriated commander's head slowly rises from the hard stained wood.

"Stop with all the damn ruckus," Riven slurs as her cold scarlet glare is aimed at the small company of drunken soldiers that are currently standing by the bar. "I'm trying to sleep here, so if you guys want to measure your dicks, just go do it outside."

"How about I measure your height with your head chopped off, bitch!" Splutters the red-faced burly man. Mere seconds before the drunken warrior can walk up to the frowning albino swordswoman and make his threat a grim reality, one of his more sober companions grabs him by the shoulder and forcibly drags him away from Riven.

"Why the fuck did you stop me, man? I was going to teach that bitch a lesson!" The enraged leader of the Noxian party yells at his friend through gritted teeth. Another soldier however takes a closer look at the unimpressed hooded swordswoman and nearly faints on the spot from surprise.

"That woman over there that you are about to challenge is Commander Riven of the disbanded Fury Company!" The somber soldier hisses lowly and the rest of the Noxians stiffen when they learn the identity of the inebriated swordswoman they were just about to attack.

"C-Commander Riven?!" Suddenly stutters the previously angry man, all color and confidence suddenly draining from his face. "The same Commander Riven that came out alive from the Zaunite's chemical barrage? The pale ghost of Fury Company that can kill with the same ease that she's breathing?!"

"The very same" Riven mutters groggily as she stands up from her rickety chair and sluggishly approaches the bar. The Noxian soldiers make way for her as the albino warrior taps her hand on the counter two times.

"Another round of the same one, and make it a double, can't quiet remember the drink's name." The drunken Commander slurs as she glances at the tense bartender behind the counter. The terrified Ionian boy that's standing behind the bar, less than sixteen winters old, mutely nods his head hastily and Riven's maroon-colored orbs flicker at once towards the figure lying on the bloodstained ground.

"Captain Lito?" The albino swordswoman says as if just noticing the wheezing former Ionian Captain that's splayed on the floor, blood leaking from Irelia's torn lips and her broken nose. "What the fuck are you doing down there?"

"P-Please, please, help my friend." Ahri begs the stoic inebriated woman at that short moment of respite. "They hit Irelia really hard, some of her ribs are certainly broken, she is going to need a healer soon if she is going to make it!"

Red eyes slowly flickers to wet amber ones, before Riven absentmindedly grabs her new drink from the trembling bartender's hands and downs the strong liquor in one go. "And what's that have to do with me, hm?" Mutters the buzzed Noxian commander. "I just want people to let me drink in peace. Captain Lito, yourself, hell even the Noxian High Command can all slit their throats for all I care. I just want to be left alone."

The small crowd of Noxian soldiers shuffles about awkwardly, and yet they know better than to attempt to execute Riven on the spot for high treason. The sole surviving member of the legendary Fury Company was above law in a sense after the end of the war. The former Noxian commander had never been officially relived from her duties or left the army per se, but everyone knew that the High Command was happy paying Riven's salary if that meant that the now unpredictable rogue warrior would spend more time drinking herself into a stupor and less cleaving rude soldiers' heads left and right.

"Then send someone to look for a healer for Irelia, and all of your drinks for the rest of the night will be put on my tab." Ahri tries to reason with the brooding fair-skinned woman as she locks eyes with the hooded albino swordswoman over the rim of another shot glass. The Noxian warrior's eyes narrow in suspicion.

"You wouldn't be in this filthy cesspool of a tavern so late at night if you've had that kind of coin on you, sly little fox."

Ahri has to try really hard to stop the panic surging within her heart from showing on her face. "I have the gold," The fox Vastayan says with what she hopes is an air of confidence and an offended glare. "Send for a healer for my friend, and my gold coins will turn into your favorite liquor." The pale swordswoman's frown only darkens, however.

"I really dislike liars." Riven growls while slamming down her shot glass shattering it in the process. The fox Vastayan flinches at the loud sound, but does her best to maintain the mask of sincerity worn on her sweating face.

"I'm not a liar," Ahri states confidently at once "I have enough gold coins on me for you to drink to your heart's conte-"

" **Tell me the truth, Ionian fox**." Riven cuts off the other woman's frustrated rumbling with a sharp tone. "Do you have any gold on you at all?"

Ahri's eyes instantly grow the size of sauces as she feels her _obedience collar_ heating up slightly around her neck. _The damn collar!_ The black-haired woman thinks in near hysteria. Ahri had forgotten about the magical item that forced Ionian citizens to blindly carry out their Noxians conquerors' orders. As if out of their own volition, the vixen's lips part as new tears start rolling down the scared Vastayan mage's drained visage.

"No." Ahri hears herself saying aloud, and the hooded swordswoman snorts producing a mirthless sound devoid of any surprise.

"That's what I thought. The deal's off." Riven raps her knuckle's against the bar. "Another shot of Tar-Rum, and leave the bottle here this time." The young bartender merely nods his head and so Riven's attention returns back to the squirming Ionian trickster. Meanwhile a few paces away from the trembling fox Irelia makes an attempt to stand up and defend her friend only to collapse with her back pressed against the bar, a hoarse shout of immense pain ripping out from the Captain's mouth.

"Please," Ahri whispers fearfully while staring straight at those emotionless faded sanguine orbs. "Irelia needs a healer, or she _will_ die."

"That's not my problem." The heartless Noxian butcher replies. Ahri's heart shatters, the enslaved spell caster's veins flooding with dread and pure hopelessness.

"Now, now, Rivy," A mischievous feminine voice makes the room's occupants turn towards the establishment's open door. "Don't turn down the cute vixen just yet, there might be some other way for her to compensate you."

Katarina confidently strolls in like a predator on the prowl. A cruel smile dancing on the fierce redhead's lips as she squats next to the nearly unconscious Captain Lito and takes a good look at the warrior's dirty, bloodstained face.

"Her friend can also be of some use when her face isn't a pile of broken bones." Katarina comments whilst pushing some of Irelia's raven locks behind the panting Ionian's ear almost affectionately.

"Then you can have them. I have no need for slaves, Du Couteau." Mumbles Riven as she presses her pulsating forehead against the cool bar. Katarina's mischievous smile instantly disappears, the assassin's piercing emerald-colored orbs suddenly becoming akin to two twin jadestone daggers.

"I have my own Ionians if I ever feel like sating my needs, Riv. You however need someone to carry you home after you get wasted and pass out on the bar table. An obedient servant to make sure that I won't find you dead one day and stuffed in a dumpster."

Riven simply grumbles something against the cool wooden bar and then starts to snore lightly. Katarina briefly pauses to roll her eyes at the slumbering albino swordswoman, before turning back to face the anxious fox mage.

"So vixen, do you want the job or not?" The Noxian assassin grins and Ahri takes a second to spare a glance at the waiting crowd of angry soldiers and Irelia's beaten form, before nodding her head at the Noxian heiress reluctantly.

"Stellar!" Katarina's Cheshire cat smile widens immensely. "I didn't even have to stab your friend to speed up things. You have a bright future ahead of you, vixen."

Ahri isn't so sure about that, but slowly nods her head in agreement regardless of it and tries to smile.


	102. Anime endings

**Summary: A tragic tale of love and betrayal inspired by the most cliché and lazy anime endings out there. Tags: Teemo and Lissandra.**

The brave yordle takes another step forward, its metal gauntlets tightening their grip around the purple hilt of the stolen cursed sword. Ice and snow twirling violently across the frigid Freljordian plain as Teemo prepares to make his last stand or slay the monster that's standing before him.

"It is over, Lissandra," The courageous furry man bellows inside the shroud of the roaring snowstorm. "Your reign of terror ends here at the edge of my stolen Blade of the Ruined King! No more innocent lives will be lost underneath your villainous blankets of black ice."

"Oh, really? "Lissandra responds with a little cackle as she gracefully glides towards the Mushroom Paladin. "And what makes you think that you will succeed where so many others have failed, you insolent rat? You, the pathetic fool that has always been the weakest of your now deceased party members?"

Teemo momentary closes his eyes as the faces of his beloved friends abruptly flash in his mind's eyes. Quinn, the kind brunette ranger that kept talking with her beloved bird, Udyr, the grumpy adventurer that had always wanted to be a door maker and thus murmured endlessly about doorknobs and gates. Master Yi with his terrible Wuju puns, Talon the cunning thief, Soraka the compassionate fruit cleric. Lissandra… the haughty ice mage that used to travel with him and the rest of his friend before she had suddenly chosen to betray them.

"Our deceased party members, Lissandra. Don't forget that you were one of us once, before greed utterly consumed your soul." Spits Teemo.

"Nonsense," Smiles Lissandra "I never considered myself part of your pathetic little party. Our numerous trysts were also a mistake too. I was only attracted to your toned body."

Teemo simply hangs his head at those words, the bangs of his cream-colored fur falling in front of his frowning face obscuring his breathtaking aquamarine eyes.

"You.. f.. I… ing.." Mumbles the Mushroom Paladin, Teemo's words being extinguished by the cruel laughter of the howling blizzard. Lissandra narrows her eyes at that.

"What?" Asks the Ice Witch almost curiously.

Teemo swallows the lump in his throat and then raises his head to stare at Lissandra straight in the eye.

"I said that you never got me off!" Bellows Teemo. "I was just pretending!"

"Pretending, Pretending, pretending!" The bitter words of the brave furry man echo around the two foes.

"Silence, you filthy rat!" Screams the enraged Ice Witch as she abruptly hurls an enchanted icicle towards the handsome male yordle. "I won't have you ruining my chances of being a popular pick this season with your incessant blabbering!"

The Mushroom Paladin has to dive to the side in order to avoid the enchanted icicle. Teemo then hastily gets up and dodges another chunk of sharp ice as Lissandra starts hurling spell after spell at the brave male yordle.

"I will bury your corpse under a mountain of black ice!" Screams the corrupted spell caster, more icicles and hexes shooting from her pale fingertips. Teemo dexterously jumps around attempting to dodge the cold projectiles, occasionally using his cursed blade to parry the frigid missiles that he can't dodge. Whenever that happens and the ice shards shatter against the yordle's purple blade, the magical sword seems to glow with an eerie crimson power.

And then Lissandra raises her hand and five fingers made of black ice sprung from the snow-covered ground. Teemo only has half a moment to see the ebony pillars closing in before screaming his defiance.

"Wuju style!" Yells the brave cream-colored yordle and the next second Teemo disappears, a jade lightning dashing between the closing fingers of the shifting frozen hand, before the Mushroom Paladin reappears kneeling a short distance away from the Ice Witch's dark grasp. The five black pillars of the frozen hand shattering behind the loudly panting yordle.

"What?!" Says Lissandra, the Ice Witch's eyes widening behind her ebony helmet. "How do you know Wuju style swordsmanship! That is Master Yi's expertise! This is utterly impossible!"

The solemn yordle just glares at Lissandra as it slowly rises from the snow and flicks a few patches of snow from the blade of its purple sword. "Yi taught me the secret behind the Wuju Style a few months after you murdered Talon and fled our group." He responds heatedly. "This is our difference, Ice Witch. You think that friendship is a weakness and try to destroy it, when having companions to help us and share our pain in reality forces us to grow stronger to support our friends."

"You are delirious." Lissandra throws another magical icicle to the solemn Mushroom Paladin expecting him to try to dodge it yet again. Teemo, however, determinedly jumps towards the approaching projectile.

"Vault!" Seconds before the enchanted ice impales the courageous yordle the Mushroom Paladin's feet make contact with the side of the magical projectile before leaping off and away from it. The enchanted black crystal harmlessly buries itself in the snow in front of Teemo.

"That is Quinn's move!" Growls the Ice Witch as she hurls three more icicle's towards the charging adventurer, only for the brave Mushroom Knight to start dancing around the frigid projectiles while simultaneously covering the distance between the two foes.

"Talon's parkour! Just how many new abilities did you gain in your journey?" Lissandra suddenly plunges her fingers into the soil, a ripple of ice expanding outwards from her current position, freezing Teemo's feet on the ground.

"Gates! Gates! Gates!" Screams at once the brave yordle knight as Teemo starts mindlessly punching at the ice engulfing his feet with a manic expression on his face. "Gotta open the GATES!"

The ice shatters before Lissandra's incredulous eyes. Teemo frantically lounges at her with reckless abandon, his cursed sword posed for the kill.

"Die you fool!" The dark witch hisses whilst attempting to trap our brave hero inside a coffin of razor-sharp black ice blades.

Warm blood is spilled on the snow-covered ground.

0000

"W-why did things turn this way my dear friend?" The bloodstained lips whisper as the blizzard roars its sorrow. "I-I just wanted to create a world where nobody suffered from heatstroke or high temperatures… a… a paradise where sweaty people didn't exist. A world where children could play in the snow every single day of their lives." The dying Ice Witch mumbles weakly in Teemo's arms, small rivulets of blood trickling down her chin and over her throat and bosom.

"I-I know.. sniff.. sniff." The Mushroom Paladin sobs lightly as he pulls Lissandra's cooling body closer to his own. "I knew there must have been a good reason for you feeding Quiny and Valor into a medieval woodchipper."

"A-a what?" Lissandra whispers weakly under Teemo's fuzzy chin.

"A domesticated Kog'Maw." The handsome yordle replies with much heartache.

"Oh…" The Ice Witch's voice fades as her last strength forsakes her. Lissandra's life now hanging by an stretching twine. A few minutes pass in relative silence. Teemo and Lissandra still hugging inside the mournful blizzard.

"Don't you find it weird?" The brave adventurer asks after a little while prompting a questioning hum from the dying woman in his arms.

"I mean, you were acting batshit crazy a few moments ago and now that you are bleeding out your reasoning has suddenly magically returned? Not to mention that I can still hear you whispering despite the blizzard raging around us and all. Isn't that… strange? Why the fuck didn't you just ult me at the beginning of the fight?"

But Lissandra can't hear Teemo anymore, for the Ice Witch is dead and so we don't need more needless explanations.

"Really, now!" Teemo growls irritably and then out of nowhere a meteor falls on his head killing him. The scene fades as we are treated to a close-up of the two fated lovers' hands grasping each other's palms under the smoking remains of the space rock. And then a mysterious black tar-like substance detaches itself from the smoking meteor and touches the skin of the dead yordle. Venom Teemo is born.


	103. The beast that ate the sun

**So I have been reading a lot of manga that I would personally categorize as modern Shoujo manga lately, and such ideas keep barraging me relentlessly. So I wrote this one to get it out of my system.**

The little blonde girl shivers as she enters the temple's yard. Fearful sky blue orbs frantically darting around, taking in the sights of the eerie stone statues that litter the dark yard. Demon heads with leering faces, squinting foxes whose slanted eyes seem to follow the girl's every move glinting under the pale glare of the moonlight. The young child swallows as it hurriedly passes by one such sculpture while holding its breath. The toddler's tiny heart beating with a thumping sound akin to that of a war drum, small fists anxiously clenching the wrinkled hem of the girl's ceremonial white dress.

Lux then accidentally steps on a twig and the blonde-haired child screams in fear as the brittle wood snaps with a loud sound underneath her sandals.

"Eeeep!" Lux curls up into a ball as she uses her palms to cover her ears. Eyes closing at once, lest the approaching demon or evil spirit that produced the loud sound sends a terrible cruel smile at the terrified blonde girl.

Lux remains in that defensive hunched position for a few seconds, shaking in fear, before a brilliant sky blue eye dares to take a peek and confirm the presence of the otherworldly beast.

The little girl exhales in immense relief when she only finds the same unmoving animal statues and grisly gargoyles facing her as before. Luxanna's relief however is soon extinguished, when the young child remembers the reason for it coming to the secluded temple in the first place.

"Perhaps Vashayan doesn't really eat children." The frightened blonde-haired toddler tries to reassure herself. "Maybe the rumors aren't true."

'Why did Lux had to be the only person attuned to spiritual beings in her village!'

The poor blonde girl almost burst into tears at that thought.

'Why did the village's elder had picked _her_ as Vashayan's bride to appease the powerful demon god!? Why not his own daughter or the children of the other rich folk? Was the real reason for her being the sacrifice that she was a lowly orphan? That wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all!'

Lux shivers as she slowly stands up and resumes her reluctant walk towards the main temple building. The air seemed to be thicker there, filled with mystical energies, spiritual power humming just underneath the garden's soil. And if the blonde toddler had previously thought the first statues capable of seeing before, this time she can swear that the stone demons are now whispering to her mockingly.

The indiscriminable sounds seem to only get louder as the quivering toddler approaches the temple's wooden doors. The demon heads sculpted from aged stone twitch and spread their smiles, the long red ribbons that have been tied on the sharp edges of the temple's roof waver and dance about quietly. A few crimson leaves being carried away by the gust of the chill autumn wind.

With a shaky hand and a hitched breath Lux raises one clenched fist to knock at the temple's tall doors. The moment the girl's skin touches the wood, however, the ominous buzzing around the temple abruptly ceases completely. The red ribbons still as the wind stops blowing.

Lux takes a frightened step back, the blonde toddler's muscles tensing as little Luxanna's instincts scream for her to turn around and run away.

"Are you lost, child? What are you doing here alone so late at night, hm?"

The male voice, suddenly emanating from behind the unnerved human offering makes Lux yelp once more. The toddler's small body violently colliding with the temple's giant door as Lux turns around to face the mysterious speaker. What she sees makes the young girl gasp in awe.

There, not even three steps away from her is a monkey as big as an adult, dressed in ceremonial armor and holding an ornate staff. While looking at her quizzically the humanoid monkey rubs at its furry chin in deep thought. "Wait, you clothes remind me of something. Could you perhaps be here to meet Vashayan-sama?" The sentient monkey wonders.

Lux can only nod at the supernatural entity while cowering with her back pressed against the temple's warm door.

"Oh, why didn't you say so when I first asked you?" The Monkey King smiles in a friendly manner before his mischievous jade-colored orbs shift somewhere over the blonde toddler's head. "Hey, you've got a visitor, Vayne."

Luxanna's eyes widen in horror when the young girl abruptly realizes that the strange monkey is staring at someone behind her back. Her head turns ever so slowly like in a dream, or a nightmare. The child's heartbeat quickens.

The first thing that Lux realizes is that the temple's doors are now open ajar letting her gaze catch a glimpse of the temple's interior. A simple yet elegant hall with wooden flooring and paper lanterns hanging from the walls are the immediate details that Lux manages to recognize until her eyesight is blocked by the figure that she has been leaning against all this time while mistaking it for the door. Then the young girl's gaze starts climbing upwards as if of its own volition.

The elegant black kimono gives way to a waterfall of midnight black hair woven into a long braid under little Luxanna's wide awed eyes. The woman's pale epidermis, like fresh milk shining beautifully under the argent moonlight, with two crimson suns replacing the eyes of the powerful supernatural being. The demon god stares intently into the wide eyes of the speechless blonde child. Ruby lips parting, a beautiful feminine voice spilling out into the night.

"So I've noticed, Wukong. What do you seek from me, child?" Vayne asks behind Lux, the fair-skinned goddess doesn't seem bothered by the fact that the blonde-haired toddler is currently leaning against her shapely legs.

Lux stutters something unintelligible, too shocked and startled to use coherent speech.

'Wasn't Vashayan supposed to be a giant red-eyed wolf that devoured the sun everyday in order to shroud the world in darkness and give people time to rest until the next dawn?'

"Y-you're Vashayan-sama? The Night Hunter?" The young orphan girl whispers in a low shaky voice that fades in the cold gusts of the autumn wind as Lux takes a step away from the beautiful female entity.

The pale woman nods her head with an irritated frown.

Lux swallows as she kneels down and presses her forehead against the wooden floorboards. "G-greetings, Vashayan-sama, I am here to be your bride." The blonde-haired orphan whispers.

* * *

 **Predicted questions: Why u no Ahri? It makes more sense for this setting.**

 **Answer: Don't wanna, I like (future) Vayne x Lux more. Write it yourself, hmp!**

 **Q: How did you come up with the word Vashayan?**

 **A: I was trying to think of a name that sounded ominous and mysterious, I then used the first two letters of Vayne, the first three of Shauna, threw in a few from the remaining ones and... Tada!**

 **Q: What happens next?**

 **A: Vayne transforms into a giant black wolf and eats Lu- puts Lux on her back and together they ran away and have a lot of heartwarming magical adventures.**

 **Q: Did those elders from that nameless village actually assume Vashayan's gender!? I am triggered!  
**

 **A: Yes, yes they did. I am also outraged.  
**

 **Q: Why do you keep writing these stupeh questions?**

 **A: …Insomnia. It is always the right answer.  
**


	104. A change of heart

"They are late." Irelia, the Captain of the Ionian guard mutters with her face twisting into a dark frown. "Are you sure that this isn't a trap, Karma?" The suspicious warrior glances towards the serene visage of the dark-skinned Ionian Elder.

"The Noxians wouldn't dare go back on their word with the Institute of War playing the middleman in the peace negotiations." Responds the Enlightened One in a soothing tone. Irelia seems to relax a little even though an arrogant huff behind and above the black-haired Captain makes the renowned warrior tense once more.

"And yet, this whole deal sounds strange even by Noxian standards," The Dark Sovereign scoffs as she hovers ominously a few feet from the ground. Power-hungry lilac eyes following the rapidly approaching carriage with the Noxian emblem decorating its side. "Sending one of their own to marry an Ionian champion? Just why would they think of something so peculiar? What is their agenda?"

Irelia hums quietly in agreement even as Ahri puts a hand over her eyes to shade them while observing the carriage climbing atop the hill. "That's not important right now," The fox Vastayan giggles mischievously. "The real question is who is going to accept the marriage proposal!"

"I am not sacrificing my happiness for a peace that isn't even meant to last," States the Dark Sovereign venomously. "Ionia can burn to the ground for all I care."

"I'm not one for chaining myself to one lover either." Mutters Ahri whilst pouting.

"Don't look at me." Growls Irelia. "I fucking hate Noxians."

Karma grimaces, but doesn't voice her own opinion. If the price for peace was that she accepted to be betrothed to a Noxian, then so be it. Karma would gladly accept that burden in order to protect her countrymen.

Akali remains silent as the vehicle stops mere meters away from them. The door of the carriage opens and when the Noxian citizen finally steps foot on Ionian soil all of the Island's champions present are rendered speechless.

"W-what? I know that it doesn't suit me, okay!?" Riven stutters shyly with a beet red face while fumbling with the hem of her snow-white wedding dress, a few beautiful white lilies woven expertly among the Noxian bride's short ivory hair. "The dress wasn't my idea! I knew that Kat was just messing with me when she told me that this was an Ionian tradition!"

"N-never mind." Mutters Syndra while examining Riven's appearance. "On second thought, I'm all for the safety of Ionia."

"Trying new things can be fun, too!" Exclaims Ahri as she licks her lips hungrily while grinning at poor Riven. "Who knows? Maybe marriage is fun after all!"

"Hate is such a strong word." Says Irelia. "I mean, how would one know that they don't like a particular thing if they aren't prepared to taste her- Try it, I meant try IT!" The Ionian warrior coughs as she corrects herself even when Ahri elbows her with a wide knowingly smile on her face.

Karma allows herself to relax. "Calm down, my friends. You might scare our new bride off. I'm sure that we can come up with a solution." The Enlightened One chuckles softly.

Akali doesn't utter a single word. She is too busy planning ways to eliminate the competition...

* * *

 **Writer's notes: There initially were more typos in this short piece than spelling mistakes in the admittedly amusing insults of a frothing mad rager.**


	105. Yu-Ri-Oh!

Riven takes a few moments to consider her choices before sending a heated glare towards Irelia. "I am playing Yasuo, the Flaming Swordsman in face-up attack position," The pale duelist declares in a loud voice. "And also another card, face-down."

True to Riven's word an angry Ionian warrior suddenly materializes in the pale duelist's side of the battlefield. The representation of another card hovering quietly behind him like a giant brown carpet.

"I'm ending my turn!" Riven declares confidently.

Irelia snorts mockingly. "I guess that's the limit of your skills, Yurigi, time to show you how a true duelist wins their duels. I'm playing Shyvana, the afk jungler!" The smug black-haired woman yells. A colossal creature strapped with axes, swords and all kinds of cheap trinkets appearing on Irelia's side of the playing field. Shyvana's 2000 points of attack damage hovering next to the summoned monster almost threateningly.

"Go Shyvana! Exterminate Yurigi's pathetic monster with your devastating dragon slap attack!"

The summoned monster's eyes flicker red for a second before Shyvana abruptly lunges towards Yasuo.

"Yurigi, no!" Screams Quinn from the sidelines.

"You can do this bro!" Shouts Jayce right next to her and Ekko instantly nods his head in quick agreement. "If anyone can wipe that disgusting smirk from Irelia's face, that's Yurigi! Come on, Riven! Beats this clown and then we can rescue Grandpa Swain and go home!"

"Heh, in your dreams!" laughs Zoe "My big sis is the best, there is no way Yurigi can beat her!"

Shyvana stops just in front of Riven's motionless monster, her arm pulling back to deliver a lethal draconic bitch-slap at the defenseless rude swordsman. "Not so fast, Irelia!" Smirks Riven. "You've just activated my Ezreal card!"

As if on cue, Shyvana freezes with her hand stopping right next to Yasuo's stubble. The card behind the Flaming Swordsman finally revealing itself. Irelia's eyes widen.

"NO!" Screams the outraged black-haired duelist. "Not, _Disconnected From The Server!_ "

Riven smirks confidently. "I'm glad you know the effect of this card, Miss Lito." Says the albino duelist as Shyvana obediently returns back to Irelia's side of the field. "Not only is your monster forced to stop attacking and you lose your control over it, but due to it losing experience while being afk its attack damage is greatly reduced!"

The holographic display next to Shyvana changes until the numbers stop flickering at 1500 attack damage. Irelia growls and curses as she grudgingly finishes her turn.

"You may have managed to delay the inevitable, Yurigi…" Spats Irelia "But this duel will end with me as the winner, as it should!"

Meanwhile Jhin, the one-eyed villain and organizer of this little competition sips on his red wine while observing the duel from a secret camera set near the dueling grounds.

"Yes, little Yurigi.. continue amusing me with your futile struggling and brave Yasuo plays… I will be the only winner of this here tournament, my cute little Riven. Kukukuku!"

The masked madman pauses to glance at a card held in his other hand. A seemingly normal playing card by all accords, if one didn't happen to notice the lifeless visage of Grandpa Swain frantically reaching out from the card's glazed confines. The old wrinkled man's frozen expression the very definition of utter despair. Swain had heard about his rework, it seems…


	106. Vayne helps people calm down

"Try to move and I will kill you." Promises the deadly Noxian assassin in the dark cramped confines of the cold metal cell. Katarina's ragged breathing ghosting over her victim's pale neck. The fiery redhead's long crimson hair cascading ominously over Katarina's scowling face, successfully hiding the Noxian noblewoman's prominent frown from the eyes of the antisocial Demacian huntress that she is currently crushing within her arms.

"Of course you will." Calmly mutters Shauna while rolling her eyes at the childish antics of the panicking Sinister Blade in the dark.

The wicked throwing knife held in Katarina's tense palm is pressed even more forcefully against the strained skin of the seemingly unconcerned Night Hunter. The fiery redhead growls agitatedly against the other woman's warm milky skin.

"S-shut up! I'm really going to kill you if you don't shut your mouth this instant!" Katarina growls with audible venom in her voice. Vayne merely raises an unimpressed eyebrow at that. The Demacian vampire's keen nocturnal vision boredly examining the sealed doors of the malfunctioning elevator that the two of them are trapped within, completely ignoring Katarina's threat on her life.

"Is that so? Because from where I'm standing you look like a scared kitten that rushes to climb on top of its owner's head after being spooked. Also, the Institute's magic won't let you harm a fellow champion, as you _certainly_ know."

The redhead woman swears with her hot face pressed against Shauna's fair epidermis, but otherwise refrains from replying to Vayne's comment for a moment or two. An awkward silence spills inside the immobilized elevator cab as the Sinister Blade of Noxus continues fidgeting next to the unfazed Demacian with her arms wrapped around Vayne. Shauna then blinks in the darkness.

"You know.. most people would be more concerned about a vampire being stuck in a dark confined space with them than the actual darkness around them itself." Vayne drawls almost conversationally. "Their mind would be flooded with images of me tearing into their throats and hungry red eyes stalking them from the dark right about now…"

Katarina suddenly tenses. "You try biting my neck and I will feed you this throwing knife through the nose! Institute magic or not!"

Not even a moment later a loud clanking sound coming from the outside of the cab makes the red-haired woman yelp and cling to the Demacian noblewoman for dear life.

"What was that!?" Katarina shout-whispers while hiding behind Shauna as if fully intending to use the pale vampire's body as a meat shield in case things went astray. "Those Piltovian elevator-things are made to last aren't they!? There is no way they are going to plummet down with us still inside them and kill us, right? Right?!"

"I don't know. I've never had any interest in technology and hex-tech machines. I'm pretty sure that _I_ will survive the fall thought."

"You are useless!" Katarina hisses while trying to peek towards the sealed doors over Vayne's right shoulder, the Noxian assassin's hands now shaking considerably more, Katarina's shrill tone also betraying the startled redhead's fright. "Utterly useless, that's why you have no friends."

"I don't see you being particularly popular either." Retorts Vayne.

"I'm popular! I just ignore all those people that try befriending me! Contrary to you I'm not some pathetic mutated outcast that everybody avoids." The Noxian assassin hisses hotly against Shauna's ear.

"And yet you are presently clinging to that pitiful outcast right now," Reminds her the brooding vampire in an even tone. "I wonder if your siblings know about your little phobia…"

"W-what phobia, I am only embracing you so that you won't be scared out of your mind, you weakling. I-I'm k-kind and considerate like that, hmp!" Katarina finches when another clanking sounds rings from the outside. "H-heh, you see, another silly mysterious sound! I bet that you would have pissed yourself if I hadn't been holding you right now!"

"Such a sweet and golden hearted assassin… I am so lucky to have you panting against my neck."

"E-exactly!" Quickly exclaims Katarina. "You owe me for this, you damn weakling."

Vayne's left eye twitches in anger, before the brooding Night Hunter's lips slowly twist into a crooked sinister smirk that goes unnoticed to Katarina due to the darkness.

"How about I tell you a story so we can pass the time more pleasantly until the Summoners find us?"

"I am not in the mood to listen to your bloody tales of virtue, righteousness and honor, Vayne. It's always Jarvan did this, or Jarvan did that, with you Demacian zealots. I've had enough of the pompous fool's bragging in the Summoners Rift as it is. I don't need to hear more stories about him slaying dragons and demons."

"The story I am about to tell you isn't your usual tale of Demacian vanity and my country's triumph over evil. It is an old legend about a mysterious being that found its way into our dimension a long time ago. It is a story of violence and bloodshed akin to your beloved Noxian paeans."

Katarina merely snorts. "As if a Demacian myth can hold a candle to Noxian ones when it comes to gruesome descriptions and violence. What happens to the protagonist of the story, do they get a big booboo or break a fingernail while saving the day? Do they run away from the otherworldly beast as you cowardly Demacian pansies would do in reality?"

"Perhaps," Is Vayne's cryptic reply. "You will have to let me tell you the story in order to find out."

The Sinister Blade grumbles in annoyance, but having nothing better to do than stand behind Vayne and wait in the dark she reluctantly hisses for Shauna to tell her the damn story. The vampiric huntress' concealed smirk instantly widens.

"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away-"

* * *

0000

The elevator's metal doors hiss and burn an angry crimson under Viktor's assault. The ingenious Zaunite scientist's robotic arm carefully tracing the farthest sides of each closed door. The scorching beam shooting out from the hex-tech power core that's attached to the Zaunite scientist's synthetic arm cutting through the sturdy metal alloy doors like a knife through butter. A few seconds later and the laser beam fades from existence as Viktor takes a step back and lets the two joined doors fall down outwards.

"Thank you for helping us, Viktor." Summoner ***Redacted*** says while smiling warmly. The brilliant inventor just nods his head.

"It was no trouble, Summoner ***Redacted*** " Answers the improved man. "Now if you won't be needing me for anything else, I would like to return back to infuriating Jayce."

Summoner ***Redacted*** chuckles good-naturedly at him. "No, that will be all." Says ***Redacted*** "Thank you again for taking care of this door for us. The Author's second option would have been Ziggs blowing up the entire elevator."

"Really?" Pauses Viktor. "Why not Bard or even Rek'Sai? One of them opening a portal would have made more sense than me severing this expensive-looking metal door and destroying it.

Summoner ***Redacted*** just shrugs at him with a tired smile. "Maybe they picked you so we could have this conversation and make this chapter longer. Can you imagine me conversing with either Bard or Rek'Sai?"

For a very brief moment Viktor imagines Summoner ***Redacted*** talking to the aforementioned champions, only for them to reply with feral growls or harmonious chimings. It sounded like an interesting story...

"I see.." Viktor shakes his head as if being once again disappointed by humanity. The two friends' banter, however is momentary interrupted by Vayne casually exiting from the malfunctioning elevator. The Night Hunter nods her head at the two other residents of the Institute before heading towards her private quarters. Thus, saving needless interactions and text space.

"It is quite fortunate that all those blushing women quickly noticed that Vayne was missing and alerted us to her sudden disappearance. We were able to release her fast because of that.." Mumbles ***Redacted*** somewhat enriching the poor backstory, and Viktor hums in agreement.

"Miss Du Couteau is still missing, however." Notes the Zaunite inventor thoughtfully.

As if on cue a soft whimper escapes from the darkness of the recently opened elevator cab. Viktor and the Summoner share a quick look before the two slowly approach the dark, shadowed opening.

"We need light." Whispers the Summoner and so Viktor slowly reaches out towards the darkness with his third synthetic arm and lets the power core that is attached to it glow faintly like a makeshift flashlight.

Katarina stares at the two newcomers with big, wet and bloodshot eyes from her current position curled up on the floor. "P-please, you have to help me," The frightened redheaded assassin whimpers as her body continues shaking uncontrollably. "Don't let the Slender Man take me."


	107. Vac27 Muddled Lives

**Tags: Riven, LeBlanc**

The tanned bunny Vastayan takes another long drawn-out drag on her almost spent cigarette and then slowly exhales the smoke through her nostrils. Melancholic maroon-colored eyes staring across the small nests of wandering pedestrians down below her vantage point on the decrepit balcony of the old _Magix_ theater.

"Why are you staring at them?" A familiar feminine voice questions as the white-haired bunny Vastayan crushes the burning butt of her cigarette against the rusty railing of the balcony and then lets gravity send the small object plummet down a filthy dark alley.

"I am just trying to guess how many drunkards are gonna show up at your next breathtaking performance." Riven jokes as she grabs a wrinkled red bowtie from inside her pocket and proceeds to attach it around her tanned neck. Riven really despised that stupid thing since it made her look like an escort that's fishing for a client. The theater's patrons would also mistake her for one too…

Not that it mattered really, of course, the snow bunny's current skimpy outfit would earn her enough tips as it was, but adding a few slutty details and overselling the whole 'sexy bunny' theme wouldn't hurt LeBlanc's show.

"You mean our performance," Evaine LeBlanc shows her partner a mirthless fake smirk, and Riven flips her the bird as she silently follows the stage magician to the main room downstairs.

"No, you are the _Magnificent LeBlanc_ ," The bunny Vastayan states, irony thick in her voice. "I'm just the eye candy, Evaine."

The black-haired stage performer pauses in front of the big purple curtain that's separating the two rivals from the crowd. Evaine straightens the crinkles on her faded outfit and checks that every and each one of her playing cards, trick coins and handkerchiefs are all in the right place, before nodding at her stage partner.

"Then start acting like an eye candy and learn to use your mouth less, Miss assistant." The stage magician growls while putting a friendly smile on her crimson lips.

"But of course... as soon as you manage to make your horrible manners disappear." Riven readily replies in a faint whisper as she lightly grabs the dark purple curtain determinedly.

"And nooow, Ladies and Gentlemeeen! It is time for what you've all been waiting for!" A loud voice bellows from the other side of the soft purple barrier.

"A harlot in high heels that's wearing buckets of mascara." Lowly interjects the tanned bunny Vastayan under her breath.

"An animal dressed as a broke second-rate stripper." Quickly responds to her, Evaine, also in a slight whisper.

"Please, welcome the Magnificent Evaine LeBlaaaanc and her beautiful assistant Riven!"

The two performers grasp each other's hands and simultaneously pull the curtain away revealing their smiling visages at the seated spectators. The gathered crowd of less than twenty snoozing or semi-inebriated people welcome them with a short wave of lukewarm clapping and a lecherous comment or two about the duo's seductive appearance. The plastic smiles plastered on the performers' lips remain there like strips of old paint on a poorly sanded wooden surface. The show has to go on.

 **QQQQ**

"Today was a disaster..." Riven mutters as she lies down on the creaky naked mattress next to LeBlanc. The black-haired stage magician nodding in agreement as she turns off a dusty lamp that's almost as battered and nondescript as the tiny apartment the two of them share in a rundown concrete three floor building downtown.

"This whole week has been a disaster." Evaine corrects the bunny Vastayan, pressing her back against that of the other woman for warmth while trying to fend off the cold with her half end of her thin ratty blanket.

"Did that old wanker Kled even pay us this time?" Riven wonders out aloud between shivers as she also wraps her share of the blanket around her quivering tanned frame, the warmth radiating off Evaine's back the only respite the bunny Vastayan can afford from the chill winds that are entering from the broken bedroom window.

"Yes, the sleazy fuck pompously tossed a few low-currency bills my way, and even made it look as if he was making me a favor." The frowning ravenette mutters in clear distaste. Riven feels Evaine's back reverberating with each angry word. "He also had the gall to propose a new act where I would be making out with you on stage after each trick, in order to gather more patrons, as he put it."

The bunny Vastayan snorts at the absurdity of the weird suggestion. Evaine herself chuckles in the dark for a moment or two. A few seconds later when their breathings subdue, the white-haired female half-turns towards Evaine in order to glance the entertainer's way with one open maroon-colored eye.

"I'm pretty sure Kled is just trying to turn our magic performances into adult shows without us noticing. Remember how conserved our first stage attires used to be? Now we could as well be standing there in only our underwears."

Riven more feels than sees LeBlanc nodding her head in agreement.

"I know what you are talking about." The older woman admits after a little while. "Kled's patrons are eyeing us like we are pieces of meat. I occasionally go down to get a drink at the bar while you are sorting out the equipment, and some drunkard would always approach me and ask for a lap dance or a quicky in the restroom.

The bunny Vastayan sighs as she gruffly turns back at her pillow, staring at the dark concrete wall opposite to her with two tired and irritated eyes.

"Same here, I get out for some fresh air and a quick smoke and a horny inebriated sod just has to follow me on the rooftop hoping to get some extra service for his oh-so-generous-patronage.

"It is because of your stupid bunny ears and paw-hands." LeBlanc abruptly hisses over her hard pillowcase in the dark. "They make you a freaking magnet for all kinds of clown shoes and closet perverts."

"Fuck you. They are my ears, I can't just take them off, you bitch." Riven grunts under her breath even as the snow-haired woman closes her eyes trying to ignore the chill wind blowing inside the little bedroom.

The stage magician snorts in response." No dice, Sweetie. Not even for a hundred sold tickets. I said the same thing to Kled."

"Get Taloned, Evaine…"

 **QQQQ**

The young white-haired woman wakes up to the sound of the radio coming out from the kitchen. There is a forgotten blues song playing on right now. One of those long instrumental pieces with slow saxophone solos that Evaine enjoys letting play in the background as she does housework around the apartment or washes the dishes.

Still yawning and wobbling clumsily like a zombie on the prowl, the bunny Vastayan follows the smell of fried eggs that's wafting from the kitchen, and unceremoniously lets her body collapse on top of an orange folding chair. Evaine, dressed in a short elastic pair of black shorts and an equally skimpy black tank top that lets most of her pale stomach exposed doesn't even look up from her newspaper as she slides a plate of sunny side-up eggs towards the hungry snow bunny.

"Eat," The drop-dead, gorgeous ravenette entertainer says. Evaine's face hidden behind her open newspaper. Riven happily obliges the older woman. For the next several minutes the sounds of the white-haired bunny assistant shoveling fried eggs in her mouth and the occasional turning of a page are the only sounds emanating around the two women.

"Kled said that we won't be appearing today. Some tall tail about renovations and a drunken Ursine client." The stage magician suddenly muses aloud without a warning.

"He is probably holding auditions for our replacements." The Vastayan bunny offers thoughtfully between big mouthfuls of fried egg yolk.

"Perhaps..." LeBlanc considers with her frown hidden behind an article about a recent series of thefts in a nearby neighborhood. "Either way, we won't be appearing this evening." The older woman drawls tersely. Evaine lowers her newspaper enough to stare at her partner over a bolded macabre headliner about a wanted yordle bomber. Intelligent amber-colored orbs lock with two curious ruby Vastayan eyes.

"So don't go starting trouble while I am away, ok? Oh and _please_ , keep your flirts away from our bed. If I find another blonde strand of hair on my side of the bed, I am kicking you out. You've been warned."

"Alright, mom." The white-haired bunny Vastayan demurely mutters in a mocking tone as she finishes her food, but Riven knows not to push the subject or challenge the ravenette further, lest she ends up on the streets living inside a cardboard box and begging strangers for spare change.

Likewise, Evaine blatantly ignores her roommate's sarcasm and mockery and turns another page on her newspaper to browse through another boring article about taxes.

"I don't really recall giving birth to a brutish smart-mouthed fleabag of a brat, but then again perhaps that's why I chose to forget it in the first place.

At that point the white-haired bunny Vastayan simply flips the stage magician the bird and then asks for another helping.

Evaine pretends that she doesn't notice it.

* * *

 **Day21: A humorous little experiment from my part, reinventing Riven and LeBlanc as two broke entertainers trying to make a living as stage performers and barely making it by. There wasn't much of a plot behind this oneshot. I didn't know how to end it and I could have cut it at half the length it is now, ending it with the pillow talk scene. It was just an interesting concept I wanted to peek at really. I could have forced a little more juice into the story if I had wanted to. Make Lb get a loan from the wrong kind of people (GP? mob boss MF?) and have things go South. Reveal that Riven run away from her abusive home a few years ago and that Lb found her starving on the streets and took her in as her assistant with a stern sort of kindness. Make Riven's feelings of gratitude gradually turn into love and concealed antagonistic protectiveness. Lb usually harsh and cynical acknowledges Riven's feelings with a soft and awkward kiss after the two of them successfully get through some ordeal. Lb kissing Riven even though Evaine isn't sure if she feels the same way about the bunny Vastayan. Maybe she just respects her. Or have the gangsters make LB pick between them hurting Riven and her breaking her own fingers with a hammer, thus forever forfeiting her career as a magician. LB enters the holding area after a while with bandaged hands stained crimson. Riven can barely believe her eyes. Didn't Evaine just want to use her to attract patrons?**

 **Still, I think that this story's charm is that it is meant as a simple quick dose of normalcy with dark-grey undertones. That it is a quick and indifferent read that doesn't delve into long scenarios involving intense dramatic scenes and intriguing riddles.**


	108. LeagueCraft

**Inspired by the cinematic trailers of sci-fi games like Starcraft and Warhammer 40k. Disclaimer: I don't own the Starcraft universe or Tychus.  
**

"GET DOWN!" The horrified warning shout of the young cadet stretches out across the ever-shifting battlefield, before the quickly descending escape pod abruptly hits the ground with a mighty and terrible booming sound. It instantly explodes.

"Aaaargh!" Broken concrete and chunks of scorching sharp metal are scattered about everywhere even as the dying soldiers attempt to dash behind cover, a ravenous army of Voidlings swiftly pursuing the retreating marines. Pointy teeth and bladed appendages digging into the exposed backs of the fleeing Union soldiers with primal delight.

"Fall back, fall back!" Bellows an armored horned woman while attempting to cull the deadly swarm of the Void monstrosities with short devastating bursts of her customized laser Gatling gun. "Retreat back to the extraction point! Help your comrades that are too injured to move by themselves! Just run! Run if you want to live long enough to escape the living hell of Andromeda 8!"

The skin near the speaker's golden eyes wrinkles and stretches behind the scarred helmet as Soraka frowns darkly while using her powerful laser Minigun to annihilate a small company of approaching Void dwellers that target the backs of two limping Union soldiers.

"Live!" Soraka commands the bleeding white-faced soldiers as the duo passes her by while mumbling their muffled words of heartfelt gratitude.

Three or four Void horrors instantly replace the freshly slain ones. Grotesque creatures with gaping jaws and rippling flesh, perverse lumps of murderous killing intent shaped in the likeness of sentient beings. Wings, tails, and even tentacles spurting out from the arched backs and milky eye sockets of the ravenous charging beasts, acidic green blood and bloodied sanguine drool endlessly leaking out from the sunless pits of the Void terrors' open mouths.

"Good work, Starchild. Now it is our turn to retreat." Another distinctly humanoid silhouette that's wearing an intimidating red power armor, lightly taps Soraka on the right shoulder, before hastily dragging the purple-skinned gunslinger towards the buzzing evacuation site nearby. Countless fleets of rising vessels already preparing for a hasty departure, the spaceships' automatic turret guns firing blindly at the approaching army of Void monstrosities. Laser Guns and Plasma Shockers temporally creating small pockets of empty space against the onyx swarm of mindless beasts, flaring like stars in the clear night sky, before those vacant holes are quickly filled by new approaching Void hatchlings.

The armored purple woman mumbles something inaudible under her breath, but just nods her head in grudging agreement.

"This way." Orders the gruffly man while leading her towards the rising spaceships.

Soraka and her companion have some trouble swimming through the ebbing sea of panicked armored bodies. Death screams and rifle fire echoing all around them, screeches and angry snarls rising over the cacophony of the ships' automatic defenses as the two soldiers finally manage to board a departing evacuation spaceship and strap themselves to the simple chrome-colored chairs.

Soraka only dares to close her eyes when the spaceship leaves Andromeda 8's atmosphere. The Starchild's death grip on her enormous weapon finally slacken then, Soraka presses a button on the side of her imposing battle helmet and the steel starts hissing and shifting, its scratched visor opening upwards in order to reveal the youthful tattooed face of the purple space goat.

Black tattooed spider webs seem to engulf one side of the Starchild's tired face, ending just before the exhausted gunslinger's collar bones. Two black round piercings set on either side of Soraka's tense lips give the battle hardened space goat an even more ferocious look with bigger piercings decorating the once magnificent ivory remains of the Starchild's snapped horn.

Right next to her, Soraka feels her companion also removing his helmet if the awesome rise in temperature is any indication.

The purple space goat slowly opens one eye just in time to see Brand put a cigarette between his burning lips, the paper catching fire almost instantly, and yet refusing to instantly turn into ash and crumble away as one would normally expect. And for all the time the two of them have been fighting together against the Void swarms, Soraka has still yet to learn the trick behind this weird inexplicable phenomenon.

"How many do you think we lost this time?" Brand's gruff voice rises over the monotonous sound of the humming engines just underneath their feet. A few surviving cadets lower their heads or stare at the reinforced floor of the spaceship with vacant expressions worn on their faces.

Soraka sighs as she closes her eyes once more whilst resting her head against the surface of her metal chair. "Too many to replace before we reach the next battlefront, too few to make a dent in the Voidlings immense armies. We need more Paladins and Artillery Dragons or we are done for." Mumbles the clearly exhausted tattooed space goat.

"Or a miracle." Brand responds while exhaling a whiff of white smoke.

"Or a miracle." Soraka agrees with him. "But I haven't believed in such things since I was five years old."

The gruff burning man simply stares at the terrified faces of the bandaged and injured young cadets that are filling their pathetic extraction vehicle. Some of them are crying or looking at their shaking bloodied palms, others are holding the hands of their dying comrades, some cadets are powerlessly slamming their fists against the floor near the corpse of a loved one.

"Yeah, me too." The gruff burning man mutters almost softly.

* * *

 **Extra: The miracle?**

A chained short yordle man can be seen entering a round room that is littered with intricate machinery. He has a lit cigar perched between his dry lips and most of his fur has been completely shaved off by the prison's wardens.

"Prisoner, step forward onto the platform." A woman's emotionless voice orders from the room's concealed speakers. Teemo obeys, strolling dramatically while puffing at his flaring cigar.

The intricate machinery suddenly comes to life, all kinds of warning lights spinning ominously as metal arms bearing heavy armor parts start approaching the still, unflinching yordle. Teemo's chains are unceremoniously removed when the yordle inmate's feet are locked on a pair of heavy metal boots.

"Convict 420." Rings a new male voice from the intercom. "Murderer. Pirate. Traitor… Mushroom planter. Today… you go free. But as you'll soon learn… even freedom has its price."

The metal arms start attaching the power armor on Teemo's little body piece by piece. Hex-tech power cores are abruptly shoved into their respective empty sockets, cables attaching to roaring motors, chest pieces and shoulder pads are at once screwed on to a sturdy steel exoskeleton.

"You will carry your prison with you. That armor will be your new cell."

The screen fades to black.

"Make no mistake…" The concealed man continues.

 _For a moment we see a transformed Shyvana flying defiantly towards a swarm of avian Void creatures._

"War is coming."

 _The image abruptly changes and we are treated to the sight of Quinn and Valor maneuvering expectantly amongst the burning skyscrapers of Piltover while being pursued by some terrible unseen force. We then catch a glimpse of Voidborn Zyra turning around to glare maliciously at us. The screen fades to black once again._

"With all of its glory…"

 _*Dun Duuuun_

 _A close-up shot of Soraka follows as the battle hardened space goat frantically fires her laser Minigun towards a company of purplish Void beasts that surround her while retreating. The Starchild's back is pressed flat against the wall. The screen fades with the blinding lights of Soraka's lasers being the last thing the observer can see._

"… and all its horror."

 _The infected corpse of Commander Sion starts rising from bellow a pile of dead bodies, the deceased commander's wickedly-sharp plasma axe still held between the bloodied fingers of a battered gauntlet._

"Mr. Mushroomson, your freedom awaits."

The imprisoned yordle marine takes a last long puff from his burning cigar. Teemo then smirks cockily, before pumping his humongous poisonous shotgun-blowgun.

"Hell.. it's about time."

* * *

 **Writer's note: Teemo's poison in this universe also contains strains of deadly sexually transmitted diseases in case somebody manages to survive an encounter with him. Teemo shoots a voidling (or a virgin he doesn't like) and when a papa Kha'Zix and a momma Kha'Zix try to make a Kog'Maw Teemo's poison spreads and more (innocent?) Voidlings die horribly due to his poison. Yes, Teemo is really dedicated to defending the universe in this one and takes great pride in his job as a righteous defender. He is such a hero, a freaking Saint, really.**


	109. Every cooking manga

**This story is rated M for mentions of explicit themes. So take young gnome-adults away from your computers, send them to work at the mines instea- Err, I hope you have a great day. Here's a digital cookie 0. It is a little burnt around the edges it seems... sorry.  
**

"There you go, Mister. Please, enjoy your dinner."

Veigar simply glares at Morgana as the smiling Fallen Angel sets down a steaming plate before the Tiny Master of Evil and then casually takes her leave. Moments pass by in contemplating silence, the yordle sorcerer's amber eyes carefully examining the clearly content faces of his fellow patrons. The clicking of silverware against porcelain plates and the customers' pleased hums the only sound permeating the small restaurant's interior.

After a minute or so, Veigar grabs his fork and then plunges it downwards with a determined expression. The fork easily sinks into the delicate exterior of the perfect meatball, a bit of mouthwatering warm meat juice springing forth silently, spilling all over the dish's steaming spaghetti. The Tiny Master of Evil pauses once again, staring intently at his food as he lets the magnificent scent of his dinner waft about, enticing his nostrils.

Half a second later and Veigar brings the fragrant round object within biting distance. His small yordle mouth opens exposing two rows of straight white glinting teeth that graze the edge of the hooked meatball, chipping off a miniature portion of the meatball's mass. The gruff spell caster chews his small morsel carefully and then audibly swallows.

"Delicious!" The amazed yordle instantly exclaims, startling the other customers around him with his high-pitched voice. Veigar then proceeds to shove the entire meatball inside his mouth and chew at it furiously while simultaneously talking. "Omnomnom! Delicious! Delicious! Delis! The rich flavor of the ground Poro meat is flooding my mouth, whilst the subtle acidic taste of the bittersweet tomato sauce is complementing the meatball's strong flavor perfectly!"

Veigar then takes a forkful of spaghetti and chews it slowly.

"Mmmm! What is this! The pasta is plain, but equally delicious! It has been boiled to utter perfection until it is soft enough to be chewed properly without the pasta strands melting together or becoming watery and losing their form! The faint earthly flavor of the pasta makes me want to eat more meat and tomato sauce! It's like those three ingredients are drawing me into a delightful game of abstention and fulfillment!"

Veigar minutely imagines himself tied to a chair while wearing a revealing BDSM suit. Right next to him, three muscular half-naked men with faces made of pasta, meatballs and tomato sauce are lightly whipping Veigar's bare chest with long strands of boiled spaghetti.

"Omnomnom! This iss soh gooht!" The Tiny Master of Evil yells as he happily wolfs down his food. "Tis iss soh good! Sooooooh good! Goohd! This dish is somehow warming my cold heart while filling my empty stomach!"

The tiny dark wizard then notices a small wooden shaker that's resting innocently at the middle of his table. Morgana's specially made mix of dried herbs and spices. With wide eyes and as if in a dream, Veigar slowly reaches out for it and sprinkles a little spice on the side of one of his mouthwatering meatballs.

"I wonder, can this dish can become even tastier?"

With a shaky hand motion and deep hitched breathing, the Tiny Master of Evil brings the small object before his open jaws and takes a big bite out of his excellent meatball.

"Aaaaaaaargh!" The furry spell caster moans pitifully as Veigar's legs start jolting under the table and his whole body starts shaking violently. For a brief moment Veigar is back in the dimly lit BDSM dungeon where Tomato Sauce, Pasta and Meatball now start sensually rubbing strong spices against his exposed body.

"Too mahch!" Veigar moans with his mouth still full. Desperate to escape this terrible pleasant torment, the Tiny Master of Evil starts chewing faster in order to empty his mouth and rinse his palate with a glass of water, only for more and more flavor to mercilessly assault the poor yordle's taste buds with each frantic bite. The miniature mage's captors inside Veigar's daydream also become more and more aggressive as a result, sprinkling dried basil leaves inside the restrained dark mage's underwear and rubbing ground coriander dust against his hard nipples.

"AaaarrrgghhH!" Veigar moans as his fists ball around the wrinkled tablecloth and his whole body jolts forward, the Tiny Master's giant wizard hat abruptly dropping from the top of his head revealing the grumpy yordle's currently flustered blushing expression to the whole restaurant. Veigar's surprisingly cattish face is twisted in pleasure, his mouth hanging wide open. The sinister spell caster's upper part firmly pressed against the surface of the wooden table, his torso stained with tomato sauce and spaghetti.

…..

Veigar doesn't know for how long he is left embracing the damn furniture with his hips still jolting and squirming weakly in the air. Seconds? Hours? The exhausted male yordle wouldn't know in its present disoriented condition.

The Tiny Master of Evil only notices Morgana observing him when his heavy appendages' twitching finally ceases. The Fallen Angel's knowing smirk is positively sardonic as the tall pale purple woman lightly sets a plate with a slice of strawberry cheesecake onto Veigar's messy table, and a paper towel with her cell phone number written on it just beside it.

"This one is on the house, Cutie." Morgana smiles sweetly before wordlessly turning around to return back to the kitchen. Veigar merely watches the corrupted celestial strut away seductively while putting an emphasis on the exaggerated movement of her hips. Veigar abruptly jolts once again and whimpers pathetically as he presses his forehead against the sauce-stained tablecloth, his already vivid blush suddenly intensifying.

 **Notes: So I wanted to try writing a scene like the ones in manga where people suddenly start talking about their foods while chewing for like an hour or so, and somehow they never happen to choke or need to pause to inhale air. Is this how it is done? Also I wonder if Morgana's ™ has a Kid's Meal on the menu. Maybe she provides catering at fraternity houses and bachelor parties?**

 **And I said "What about Breakfast at Morgie's?"**

 **She said "I think, I remember her feeding me meat"**

 **And as I recall, I think, we both kind of liked it**

 **And I said, "Well that's one thing we Urgot"**

* * *

 **Shokugeki no Morgana.**

"But that isn't the final form of my dish! Look again, Veigar, for my dish is designed to become better and better as more time passes."

Veigar merely narrows his eyes at Morgana, but then the tiny judge's eyes widen in shock. "Chocolate? I taste chocolate! But how?" Veigar then lowers his daze at his melting fork with an expression of pure awe.

"Exactly," smiles Morgana. "I've made these forks out of chocolate beforehand so that they would slowly start melting while you were eating my food, turning the dish into a captivating journey for your palete."

"I-I guess the win goes to you then-"

"Not so fast, dear sister!" Suddenly shouts Kayle. "Because my own dish isn't so simple either, I made some chicken broth and then vaporized it and scattered it inside this room through the air conditioning system. So my final ingredient is now trapped in liquid form inside the lungs of Mister Veigar, there. I intentionally made my soup spicy so Veigar would cough and force the broth from his lungs to his mouth! Any minute now..."

*Cough *Cough

"Incredible!" Veigar then abruptly exclaims. "I have some trouble breathing, but suddenly Kayle's vegetable soup is making my taste buds cry tears of joy!"


	110. Jade lightning part 1

**Tags: Irelia, Riven, Karma, Drama, Adventure?**

 **I would like to put a warning tag about dark themes and violence here, even though you are happily playing a video game where huge bloodthirsty brutes are cutting children in half with war axes to protect world peace and nobody thinks of calling Social Service… Then again, the children of the League are Lady Loki, a serial arsonist and a kid that enslaves endangered species so I am not really sure what to feel about it... Long live Godmo.  
**

It is a cold unforgiving night. The temperature is quite low and the wind has been steadily picking up recently as the season of winter inevitably approached. The dead leaves that have been gathering underneath the Zaunite Institute's crooked trees are getting bigger and bigger as the days grow shorter and colder in comparison. Inside the Institute's reinforced walls, huddled like cattle in their pitiful cell's corners for much-needed warmth, the test subjects fidget about uneasily.

The experimented children, starving orphans that had been gathered from the streets, don't try to converse as the wind screams his eternal defiance outside of their familiar souless prison. Those emaciated youthful guinea pigs don't sob or voice any complains while clutching at their ratty paper-thin blankets, helplessly shivering against the equally quaking cold bodies of their abused peers. Sometimes they groan or croak and gesture or nod, but never talk like normal people do. The experimented children lack the means for such functions after all, the child soldiers' vocal cords having been surgically removed so potential runaway experiments would be unable to seek help from outsiders.

The experimented orphans will never be able to voice their opinions ever again. Complain about their hellish living conditions or beg for mercy from a superior enemy before being savagely struck down where they stood. They will never have short conversations about the most mundane of things, be able to ask for directions or sing absentmindedly and talk about their feelings. Such things aren't required of expendable cannon fodder after all. Soldiers should only be able to following the orders of their superiors and swing their swords in the general direction of the advancing enemy forces.

The sound of approaching footsteps makes a dozen or so pairs of beady eyes wander towards the basement's locked door. The faces of the child soldiers' remaining impassive when the giant heavy door suddenly opens and another child soldier is roughly pushed into the dirty dimly-lit cell. The cruel Zaunite guards of the Institute sending the shivering children a suspicious glare before leaving the room and sealing the entrance behind them. A tense silence follows.

The experimented children merely glance at the emaciated silhouette of the bruised newcomer. The guinea pigs' dull lifeless eyes briefly pausing at the burnt left hand of the collapsed albino kid that's still crackling with flickering emerald lightning, before casually returning back to their indifferent shivering states.

Riven doesn't utter a single croak as the white-haired toddler slowly gets up and limps at the opposite corner of the cramped prison cell, the albino child's left hand ceaselessly smoking and twitching involuntary every few seconds whilst spiting lightning. Jade-colored sparks minutely appearing across the little albino's bandaged hand, burning Riven's flesh with the primal power of her uncontrollable magic before fading just as quickly.

The white-haired child soldier closes her eyes and tries to catch some sleep as she too starts shaking from the cold that sips in the cell from the cracks that's littering the walls of the moldy dark basement. Soon enough the green sparks racing over the young child's burnt skin finally vanish engulfing the stinky dark cell in complete and utter darkness.

 **0000**

"This is… sickening!"

Irelia has always tried to maintain her composure when faced with scenes of carnage. Adopting a cool mask of indifference when walking in public, and meditating for countless hours every day when in the privacy of her home in order to master the art of concealing her emotions. Yet, this time there was no way that the proud and usually collected undead Captain of the Ionian Guard would just stare at the sight before her and shrug it off without a second thought.

Not when Karma had brought her to this hellish battlefield that had withstood the nightmarish Zaunite chemical barrage that had ended the Noxian-Ionian war.

Not when an alarmingly solemn and tense Enlightened One had wordlessly pointed at a pile of partly disintegrated dead enemy bodies, and Irelia had noticed the dead soldiers' strange proportions.

Not when Irelia had found the bones of countless dead children littering the desolate battlefield, dressed in Noxian military uniforms with chipped and shattered swords still held in their tiny skeletal hands.

"I wholeheartedly agree." Tensely whispers the always composed Enlightened One, and this is the first time that Irelia can detect such underlined anger and disgust audibly coloring her childhood friend's somber tone.

The two Ionian heroes continue roaming about the desolate battlefield, their footwears leaving faint yet discernible footprints on the ashen sea of burnt soil and dried blood left in the wake of the terrible Zaunite bombardment. Silent witnesses to the horrors of war scribbled across the landscape of the once beautiful destroyed valley, nameless gravestones erected by the already decomposing bodies of the decimated Noxian child soldiers.

So much death and destruction. So much loss of innocence and human lives. The battle-hardened Captain of the Ionian Guard feels humbled by the stomach-churning sight she comes across. Irelia as a proud warrior of her nation is no stranger to death of course, and yet seeing the miniature bones splayed beneath her feet and imagining the horrid expressions worn on the faces of those deceased children sickens the disciplined Will of The Blades to her very core. Captain Lito and Karma silently inspect the humongous piles of decomposing flesh and rusted breastplates. The broken swords and torn banners left to rot in this cursed valley of stolen lives.

"Does anyone else know of this?" Irelia asks the dark-skinned woman after a while. Karma responds by shaking her head in immense remorse.

"Only the scouts that came to search the battlefield for survivors, plus Shen, Akali and Kennen and their spy network. I swore all of them to secrecy the moment I received their reports." The Ionian Elder admits breathlessly.

Irelia wants to protest Karma's decision, but even a simple warrior with no experience in political maneuvers like her can understands that the knowledge of Noxus' treachery is too dangerous to be released to the public without careful consideration beforehand. The morale of the Ionian forces would plummet for one. Their kind-hearted soldiers pausing to contemplate whenever they were actually fighting armed children or genuine Noxian invaders mid-swing, those fleeting moments of distraction potentially leading to the loss of the pious defenders' lives.

Not to mention that Demacia would also rush into war with Noxus once more if they took a hold of that dreadful and discriminating information. Piltover would form a temporally alliance with Demacia then in order to lay claim on the abundant resources of the black city, forcing Zaun to defend Noxus with their chemical warfare.

It would be the start of the final Rune War, and as much as Irelia and Karma wanted to bring the Noxian High Command to justice for their inhumane actions, there were too much at stake for Ionia to open Shaco's box and let slip the dogs of war that have been grudgingly slumbering until now.

Karma kneeling before another great gathering of jumbled corpses draws Irelia out of her reverie. The red-clad Captain of the Ionian Guard curiously directs her stare towards whatever it was that her wise friend had spotted amidst the scorched piles of deformed human remains. The undead Ionian lich's sentient blades shifting about in mute agitation above the two squinting women.

"What is it?" Captain Lito whispers tensely as she too kneels before the pile of dead twisted flesh. Karma's intense gaze appears to be fixed on the scattered shards of a colossal runic blade that's still humming faintly amongst the blackened burnt bodies of the Noxian cadets.

"There is a survivor." The Enlightened One says guardedly as Karma's intelligent brown eyes slowly move from the freshly-shattered weapon to the trail of bare footsteps left behind by the owner of the enormous sword… leading directly towards the Ionian capital.

"Are they from us or…?" Irelia asks heatedly as the floating blades above the red-clad female warrior start shaking in barely contained anger.

"They are Noxian." Karma responds as her conflicted gaze leaves the dusty trail left in the ash to meet the striking angry jade-colored eyes of her childhood friend. And a livid Irelia is about to lunge forward and onto her enchanted hovering blades that she commands and hunt down the Noxian rat, when Karma's hand is suddenly wrapped around her wrist, effectively stopping the Captain's departure.

"Don't! The survivor is but a confused child that has been unwillingly exposed to the horrors of adult violence and war. They are probably injured and terrified out of their mind. The last thing we want is assaulting the poor child and proving to it that Ionians are the same as its cruel Noxian handlers."

The undead Ionian lich would have none of it however.

"I am not going to let a Noxian butcher loose in our city. Child or not, the survivor's hands are stained with the blood of our people!" Irelia grits her teeth as she attempts to pull her arm away from Karma's grip. The sight of her childhood friend's solemn brown eyes stops the resurrected Captain's struggling much more effective than the lose grip on her left wrist ever could.

"Perhaps, but this child didn't have a choice in the matter. You have one, however, right now. Please, I don't want my dear friend to become the undead monstrosity some of the Elders see in her. Don't let that hardworking and honest woman strike down a scared toddler in cold blood."

"Setting my hate for the Noxians that killed me and robbed me of my future, aside. Telling me to ignore a rogue enemy soldier that has infiltrated the capital and could go on a killing rampage any moment now… Do you have any idea what you are asking of me, my _Duchess_?"

Despite Karma being so seethingly addressed by her title instead of her given name, the Ionian Elder's eyes remain focused and pleading staring right back at Irelia's. Looking at this resurrected shade of her deceased childhood friend with calm, unwavering conviction.

"I do. And I'm not asking you to ignore them. Bring the child to me once you've found it and I will take care of the rest. I will make sure that it won't harm more Ionians from now on. The survivor will be my responsibility and you won't ever hear about them again. I won't let the kid become your problem."

"You're playing with fire, my Duchess." Irelia glares harshly at the dark-skinned mediator.

"I'm fully prepared to forsake my status and kneel down before you to beg if that means my dear friend won't become a coldhearted monster. I know that there is more of Irelia still residing within you than you let on, Captain Lito. Hopefully the fractured soul of my best friend will take pity on me before I start groveling at your feet and start kissing your boots to convince you."

"You would lower and humiliate yourself for the sake of a Noxian rodent?" Asks the immortal lich, yet Irelia's jade-colored orbs seem conflicted for a short moment.

"I would do it for both the sake of a mistreated child, _and_ to preserve the light that's still burning inside your tormented heart, my dear lost friend."

The lich's face crunches up in distaste.

"Your childhood friend is dead, Enlightened One. I would have thought that someone as intelligent and perceptive as you would have realized that by now."

For what feels like long eons the dark-skinned woman silently stares at the raging storm gathering inside the jade-colored eyes of the Ionian lich. Then slowly, ever so slowly, Karma's lips begin to smile.

"If that was really the truth I would have given up a long time ago, my dear Irelia. Yet here we are today, and you have yet to pull your arm away from mine and hunt the survivor."


	111. Jade lightning part 2

**Tags: Irelia, Riven, Soraka**

Much like how Irelia had expected the search for the missing Noxian survivor had yielded little to no results for the better part of a whole week. A tiring, tense week where the noble undead lich had been constantly overcome by stagnant feelings of growing unease and powerless anticipation. There was an enemy soldier hiding somewhere in the snow-covered alleyways of the magnificent Ionian capital after all. A little demon with bloodstained hands and a black soul that wore the face of an innocent child.

As it was natural for such a serious and dedicated individual as Captain Lito, Irelia had searched high and low for this despicable little rodent that had found the gall to hide within the sturdy walls of their majestic city. The proud Captain of the Ionian Guard had made observing the starving army of dull-eyed orphans that frequently gathered outside of the temples seeking handouts her daily routine. Irelia herself had volunteered to participate in the various charities that had been organized to aid the victims of the unwarranted invasion of Ionia by the Noxians. A reluctant, yet begrudging gesture that had elicited numerous beaming smiles from the softhearted Starchild.

Poor Soraka had completely misunderstood the undead lich's real intentions, happily welcoming Irelia into her field of war relief and offering the gruff Ionian Captain advice about how to approach eccentric beggars and treat scared people alike.

And yet, no matter how many bowls of warm soup Irelia had served to toothless scar-skinned elderly men and mourning widows, and how much her emerald gaze would wander over the hunched, defeated heads of the dining parentless kids, the proud Ionian warrior had failed to find a clue as to the little Noxian imp's identity so far. Most children and beggars in general were still nervous wrecks after the recent end of the terrible war. Flinching and jolting frightfully whenever their watery eyes caught hers examining them, practically shaking within their rags and rushing to finish their depressingly small meals, before the suspicious scowling woman by the table would have the chance to take them from them for unknown reasons.

Frustrated by her failure to locate the missing Noxian butcher so far, Irelia sighs in accumulating irritation as the first and last person that she had served that day suddenly returns back a third time to demand another refill of their empty bowl. The simple wooden container, with only one or two grains of boiled rice left in its nearly polished confines being impatiently placed in front of the considerably gruff red-clad Captain Lito.

"You want more?" The Ionian Captain mutters between grit teeth even if Irelia already knows the answer to her question. The scowling white-haired child doesn't reply verbally, but nods its head in response and then taps its left bandaged hand against the table rudely, as if demanding for Irelia to hurry up and serve her.

"Children used to have manners when I was your age," The undead Ionian lich says as she narrows her eyes at the rag-covered kid. "We were taught to respect our elders from a very young age, and to ask politely if we wanted to receive something from somebody, especially a stranger that didn't owe us a single thing."

As if the white-haired toddler can't hear a single word that's coming out from Irelia's mouth, the young orphan impatiently slams its bandaged hand against the table once more, the rude little beggar's small maroon-colored eyes pointing at the empty bowl meaningfully, clearly demandingly.

Irelia only huffs in response. "I'm not giving you more food until you ask for it politely. I have already given you more than enough as it is, now shoo!"

The white-haired toddler's fierce pout darkens considerably at those words, its already sharp and hostile eyes turning downright murderous as the hungry young orphan looks at Irelia as if sizing her up for a fight. The red-clad Ionian champion is quick to return the favor adopting a more threatening stance.

Captain Lito challengingly crosses her arms in front of her armored chest, attempting to intimidate the rude little rascal as she looks down at the young albino orphan whose scarlet gaze is now rapidly alternating between the unimpressed frown of the powerful Ionian lich and the open cooking pots with the remaining food that are precautiously set on the counter right behind the gruff and oh-so annoying server.

"I wouldn't try anything if I were you." Confidently challenges the proud warrior lich. "Less scrawny kids have tried stealing those cooking pots from the stall and none of them have succeeded under my supervision."

The rude snow-haired rascal bites at its bottom lip as the orphan's twin ruby orbs keep staring daggers at Irelia's emerald lakes. Then, without a warning, and with a last hateful glare directed at the obnoxious red-clad Captain, the emaciated child turns around and begins limping away from the serving area, its tiny scarred fists clenched tightly by its sides.

Being so focused on her righteous victory over the liliputian ill-mannered glutton, and while still savoring the euphoric feeling of accomplishment for teaching the rude little girl a good lesson, Irelia doesn't notice Soraka's killing intent until the kind Starchild bonks the other woman on the back of the head with her bare knuckles.

"Ow! What in the Void!" Irelia grunts as she rubs at her head.

"There is more than enough food in the pots if you'd like another serving of rice, my dear." Soraka smiles at the retreating form of the hungry child and the white-haired orphan hurriedly returns back to the cramped serving area. True to her word, the considerate Starchild instantly refills the poor toddler's empty bowl and leans down to place it in-between the tiny awaiting hands of the emaciated pale war-beggar.

The deathly pale child then sets off to find an empty table to sit down at and eat its invaluable food, but not before sending Irelia one last hateful glare and sticking its tongue out at her.

Regrettably enough, the good Captain is currently too busy getting lectured by Soraka for refusing to serve the rude rascal a third time to return Riven's glare. _Or_ to actually notice the brief glint of the chipped edge of a broken black sword hidden within the little beggar's stained dirty rags, before the Noxian guinea pig hastily fixes its torn cloak concealing it.

* * *

 **Notes: Omg, Drawing! What's this?! This ain't a fuckin' oneshot! The title of the collection is clearly: Random** **Oneshots** **, I am going to ruin your nonexistent writing career and report you to the Oneshot Community! Let's see how you like it when you can't get your shots and you get sick during the winter! I'mma negative criticism you so hard that you're gonna start attracting protons and positively charged science stuff! Yer gonna rue the day that you decided to cross ME, AnonymousAlphaBigDuck69!**

 ***Presses the mute button and goes back to sleep.**


	112. Jade Lightning part 3

**Tags: Irelia, Riven, Soraka.**

And so the days that proceeded the end of the great war between Noxus and Ionia passed uneventfully, with Irelia continuing to work as a volunteer server and cook at the temple's handouts, providing food for the victims of the terrible invasion, and Soraka trying to mend the grieving souls of the remaining survivors that had experienced so much death and pain.

And as time passed and no reports of violent murders and mysterious massacres were brought to Irelia's attention, the Returned Captain of the Ionian Guard's initial sense of unease had reluctantly started diminishing with each passing day.

Perhaps the fiendish Noxian survivor had decided that staying within the city's walls was too dangerous and so they had fled from the capital, the undead lich thought while picking at her food pensively. Maybe the toxic chemicals that had been released upon the now desolate battlefield had already killed the little murderous Noxian devil before they were able to attack her people.

Whatever the case may be, and whenever the Noxian butcher was cunningly lying in wait biding their time before ambushing innocent citizens or not, Irelia had no new leads to follow.

The Ionian Captain's sole clue as to the survivor's identity would be their behavior and the acts of violence that they would no doubt commit within the city's walls. But now, with all the nervous and steel-eyed Ionian orphans that were flooding the streets and the lack of a fresh trail of bloodshed to point her at any one direction, the Noxian survivor's trail had grown cold. The undead Ionian lich would need nothing short of a miracle to discover the enemy soldier before they caused some serious damage to the majestic capital city and its populace.

Irelia's eyes, still thoughtful and conflicted, absentmindedly observe a small bandaged hand sneakily move across the table, reaching for the neglected slice of bread that Irelia had left next to her plate. The distrait Captain blinks in confusion for just a second, and when Irelia opens her eyes again to stare at the little hand in puzzlement, both the small appendage and her slice of bread have already disappeared.

Two narrowed jade-colored orbs flicker irritably towards the pale unrepentant face of a rapidly chewing albino orphan, even as Soraka smiles apologetically at the peeved Captain Lito and offers her own bread to replace the slice that Riven had just stolen.

The undead black-haired lich merely shakes her head in annoyance, refusing to deprive the kind Starchild of her portion of bread, while irritably glaring at a blatantly unconcerned Riven.

"Thank you, Soraka, but I think that I am done with my meal." Irelia mutters under her breath and not even a moment later, those same thieving hands hastily take possession of Captain Lito's half-full plate. Riven fervently digs into the remaining vegetable stew, barely pausing to chew down her food before shoveling another spoonful of lukewarm stew into her ravenous gaping jaws.

"Please, remind me again why I have to be subjected to this torture? Why do you keep inviting the kid over to dine with us during our break?"

The undead lich's gaze solemnly wanders towards the widely smiling visage of her extremely motherly celestial companion. Soraka is currently watching the little rascal wolf down its food with a content expression gracing her kind purple face.

"Because the two of you started off on the wrong foot for one, and secondly because if it isn't our sacred duty as champions of this land to help those less fortunate than us, then I don't know what it is, and we wouldn't be worthy of our stations and titles."

"Then do your sacred duty as a champion by teaching the little bugger to chew with its mouth closed!" The red-clad Ionian Captain finally exclaims while pointing an accusing finger towards the totally oblivious white-haired girl. Riven's cold maroon-colored eyes momentary dart towards the offending appendage to make sure that Irelia isn't attempting to snatch away her food. Split seconds later, and when Riven safely deducts that that isn't Irelia's real intention, the Noxian orphan loses all interest in the adults surrounding it once more and Riven returns back to messily throwing things inside her mouth.

"Don't call her that! And I believe that you would also be eating as fast as she if you hadn't eaten anything for Stars' Know how long."

Irelia simply mutters something between her teeth, but doesn't push the subject and opts to remain silent. Soraka too releases a soft sigh and lets the conversation shift to a more cheerful subject.

"Ionia has slowly started recovering," The Starchild whispers faintly as she too examines the grim and stern faces of the emaciated people that are filling the crowded room. "It certainly is going to be a long and arduous process, and we undoubtedly have a long way ahead of us before the nation begins resembling its former glorious self. But the people here have started rebuilding their homes and burying their dead, saying their final goodbyes. The healing process has already begun even if most survivors have not yet realized it."

"Ionia will never truly heal until the Noxian war dogs that mangled her are put down like the rabid animals that they are." Angrily spats Irelia with hate thick in her voice. Soraka responds by reaching over the faded tablecloth and tenderly grasping the undead lich's hand.

"You have to let go of your hate or it is going to consume you like Master Yi and Varus. The war is over, Irelia. So, please, stop looking for enemies over your shoulder and focus on the people that love you and want you to find a purpose outside of the battlefield."

The change in Irelia's demeanor is as violent as the descending blade that breaks bone and severs sinew. One moment the Captain of the Ionian Guard is relatively calm, willing to listen to the Starchild's lectures, and the next moment the undead warrior's face is a fierce mask of unadulterated hate and overflowing bloodlust.

Irelia instantly pulls her arm away from Soraka's. The Captain's sentient blades also quivering slightly in a display of immense anger.

"Every Noxian soldier that will dare step foot in Ionian soil will perish at the end of my blades!" Growls the resurrected shade of a cherished dead woman, and Irelia's voice is unwittingly loud enough for some of the citizens that are sitting around their table to hear her terrible oath. A wave of cheering abruptly rises from the hoarse from crying throats of the suffering Ionian survivors, clapping and whistling joining them soon after, as one by one the hurting Ionian widows and orphans or cripples solemnly stand up from their seats and bellow their approval of Irelia's ideals.

Soraka can only spare her dear friend a sad, disappointed look and then bow her head in shame as the once tranquil temple room reverberates with oaths of imminent bloodshed and curses soaked in vengeance and loathing.

And it is only around five minutes later, when a frigid and outraged Karma suddenly burst in the crowded room and the ruckus grudgingly settles down that the two Ionian champions finally notice the absence of the white-haired child that has been quietly eating next to them not a few seconds ago. Irelia's scorching emerald gaze briefly pauses on the toddler's abandoned plate and the considerable amount of food still left on it, before the undead Captain's eyes abruptly narrow in suspicion.


	113. Family matters

**Tags Quinn you are it.  
**

"Quinn, your teachers have informed me about you getting into a fistfight with your classmates, today." The matriarch of the Featherwind family states disappointedly over the kitchen table. Quinn fidgets uncomfortably under her mother's intense glare.

"But the other kids were making fun of me!" States the little brunette girl after a while in a harsh angry tone. "They kept saying that I'm adopted."

Anivia merely shakes her head at those words. "Still, that doesn't give you the right to hurt other people, Quinny."

"They had it coming…" Mutters Quinn under her breath and the Cryophoenix's eyes instantly narrow dangerously.

"Naughty children should be punished." Says Anivia, completely ignoring her husband's pleading look until Azir lowers his head and lets out a quiet sigh behind his newspaper. "Go back to your room, Quinn, there will be no bird snacks for you tonight, young lady."

The little brunette girl knows better than to protest as Quinn angrily gets up from her seat and stomps away to the second floor where she throws herself on her giant perch with a shudder.

"It's not fair," Quinn mumbles pitifully as her brother, Valor hesitantly approaches the irritated young brunette and starts preening her unruly hair with his beak. "It's not fair, Val, those kids were being mean to me! So why am _I_ the only one that gets punished?"

The humongous blue eagle merely lets out a soft croak. Quinn then slowly raises her head to send a smile her brother's way. Damn, Valor always knew what to say to make the featherless brunette feel better. Even if he was probably adopted…


	114. Chauffeur Vayne

**Don't mind me. Just posting some drabbles I found.**

 **Tags: Lux**

*School bell ringing*

There is an escalating hum of hurried footsteps behind the old building's doors before the doors almost explode outwards due to the swarm of college students pushing each other fervently, rushing towards the warm sunlight outside. The soles of countless shoes clatter against the grey concrete, dazed youthful forms spilling out of the crowded hallways while holding their book bags and taking off their blazers whilst exhaling relieved sighs.

"Finally! I thought that Professor Ryze would keep us in there until midnight!" One of those students, a tanned brunette woman with soft brown eyes and an exhausted expression mutters exasperatedly as she pats at her pockets to make sure that she didn't forget her Hex phone under her desk this time.

"It wouldn't surprise me if he did, Quinn. Professor Ryze loves his history lessons." Giggles a blonde-haired girl as she walks next to her dear friend. Quinn sends Lux a reserved smile before going back to frantically patting her pockets.

"Oh, damn. I think I left my Hex phone in the classroom again." The brunette student adopts a crestfallen expression before she turns towards the sympathetic sight of her chirpy friend. "I'm sorry, I will have to go back and retrieve it." Mutters the tanned brunette girl whilst looking at Lux somewhat apologetically.

"Don't worry about it. My ride is already here anyway." Answers Lux and the two friends share a quick hug and wish each other good evening, before Quinn runs back towards the ravenous open jaws of their prestigious college.

The blonde student merely sighs as she directs her gaze at the luxurious black car that's patiently waiting for her at the front entrance. A few minutes later and the car's door closes with a satisfying smack as Lux sits down on the backseat and places her bag next to her feet.

"How's your day, Miss Crownguard?' The driver monotonously inquires, like every day, and the blond college student minutely guides her gaze towards the reflection of scarlet sunglasses in the front mirror as she smiles at her chauffeur brightly.

"It's been great so far, Shauna. Thank you for asking." Luxanna beams and the black-haired woman behind the steering wheel observes the college student for a brief moment through her reflection before nodding quietly and then starting the car's engine.

"I'm glad to hear it, Miss Crownguard."

0000

"Absolutely not!" The usually kind and wise mustached man unexpectedly raises his voice. "I can't have you loitering about in such late hours, Luxanna. Our family might be wealthy and influential, yes, but even so we _do_ have enemies that wish to harm us. Wandering around on your own at night is extremely dangerous and I can't permit it."

The blonde college student's first response is to anxiously bite down at her bottom lip. Lux's eyes stare at her father pleadingly.

"But Daaad! Everyone else is going to Syndra's party! Quinn and Sona are going to be there, not to mention that Syndra and I have also just become friends! I can't just reject her birthday party invitation!"

"I'm afraid that you will have to, my little Sunflower. Unless you accept for a bodyguard to escort you."

Lux grimaces as she pictures a burly man in a charcoal black suit following her around while she interacts with her friends, the hushed whispers and amused eyes of the other guests quickly erupting after her initial arrival at the party. Just the thought of all that unwanted attention is making Lux's cheek's heat up as the college student squirms in front of her father uncomfortably.

"Is that the only way that you will allow me to attend the party?" Lux tries to change the mind of the mustached Crownguard patriarch whilst sending her father a pleading look.

"Yes."

The young blonde grimaces once more as Luxanna's shoulders slump in defeat.

"Very well then, father. I accept your terms. Which bodyguard is going to accompany me to the party? Braum? Galio? Xin Zhao?"

The mustached man grins mischievously causing the blonde teenager's eyes to widen in fear. "Please, don't make me go there with Draven, Daddy! That is the equivalent of committing social suicide! He will keep talking and talking, bragging about his military background and annoying the guests. He is going to definitely embarrass me, daddy!"

"Calm down, Lux." The short mustached gentleman smiles reassuringly at his visibly panicking daughter. "I wouldn't wish Draven attending such an event to my worst enemy, much less my little beloved Sunflower! No, I think that I have the perfect person for the job." The Crownguard patriarch's eyes move to someone standing behind the perplexed blonde woman. "Isn't that right, Vayne?"

"Shauna will be accompanying me-?" Lux blinks owlishly as she turns around to face her antisocial gruff chauffeur, only for the young wealthy heiress's breath to suddenly hitch when she abruptly catches a glimpse of the other woman.

"Wha..?" The young Crownguard unsuccessfully attempts to convey her immense astonishment as two shocked blue orbs roam up and down the lithe silhouette of her frowning bodyguard. The poor heiress' throat suddenly becomes drier than the scorching deserts of Shurima.

For all the years that Shauna had been working as Lady Luxanna's personal driver, the blonde Sunflower had never seen Vayne without her scarlet sunglasses. She had never caught a glimpse of the sharp, yet beautiful features that were lurking underneath that red sea of scarlet glass. The mysterious twin silver orbs that she could sometimes feel staring right back at her through the car's front mirror, but never actually witnessed. Had Shauna ever let her midnight black trenches down before?

More importantly Lux had never seen Shauna Vayne wearing anything other than her strict bodyguard suit, so seeing her gruff chauffeur like this, wearing a pair of skinny black jeans and a loose Pentakill T-shirt of the same color had left the shocked Crownguard daughter gaping like a fish out of water, staring in stunned silence.

"Is there something wrong with my disguise for the party, Miss Crownguard?"

Inquires the pale chauffeur. And now Vayne is looking fixedly at her, and Lux can feel herself blushing madly like a red traffic light.

"N-not at all." Somehow manages to stutter the blonde heiress. Vayne simply nods as she directs her argent gaze towards the smirking mustached Crownguard patriarch.

"Then we will be going if that's all. Sir?"

"That's all, Shauna. Have fun at the party you two." The smirking man gestures dismissively towards the office's door. And then, when the two women are about to exit the room, Teemo Crownguard adds as if in an afterthought. "Vayne, I am entrusting to you my Sunflower for tonight. You better keep her safe for me."

The pale bodyguard bows her head in respect, before gently grasping the hand of the fidgeting heiress. "Always…" Shauna whispers too lowly for the blushing blonde heiress to hear as the two leave the luxurious office.


	115. Perfection

**Notes: There is a very good reason for the existence of this story, it is a pity that I can't currently remember it though.**

Yasuo was casually strolling down the gardens of the Institute of War one fine morning. The Ionian Ronin's exposed abbs were glistering under the warm sun, his manly and handsome face illuminated by the rays of the recent sunrise. Yasuo's hard disciplined body like a breathtaking sculpture made of granite as the deadly samurai walks near a company of female champions, and Zyra suddenly offers the wanted swordsman a crimson flower along with her inhuman virginity.

But Yasuo respectfully declines the plant woman's offer because he is a kind gentleman that treasures the plants first and foremost, and because he has a date with Lux, Syndra, Ahri, Akali, and curiously enough Anivia later that night.

Zyra frowns and cutely bites her bottom lip as she stealthily eyes the swordsman's shapely behind when the handsome man struts forward. The plantmage can grudgingly understand that not every woman can have such a stunning man watering her private orchid, but Ezreal had already denied her advances in order to mingle with Caitlyn, Vi, Jinx, Camille and Poppy under the covers.

The proud march of the Unforgiven continues and Yasuo starts whistling a favorite tune of his, the beautiful sound escaping from the Ionian champion's lips instantly drawing the attention of a visibly dazed Sona.

"Yasuo give me your babes." The once mute songstress breathlessly whispers, her voice miraculously recovering from the sight of Mansuo's hard abbs. But the Ionian swordsman merely makes a phone gesture and winks at her and the Maven's panties abruptly drop down when the Unforgiven sends Sona a knowing white pearly smile. The cured musician almost faints since Yasuo had so kindly decided to spare a few seconds of his time to touch her unworthy life. Such a blessing, such luck, such wow. Nasus sneezes.

"Unforgiven! Fight me you coward!" Suddenly yells a blushing Riven as she abruptly lunges from behind one of the gardens' bushes in a futile attempt to ambush her manly archenemy. I mean, Singed might _had_ at one point killed everybody that Riven ever cared about, but the stunning and unique league champion with the lack of shirt and his charming smile was obviously a better arch-nemesis for her that the insane Zaunite genius with the awesome chemical concoctions of fire, death and acidic shadow...

Where were we? Ah, yes! Yasuo easily parries Riven's broken sword while holding his thin blade with one hand and then uses the flat side of his katana to spank Riven's shapely behind.

"Ow, ow! It hurts!" Yells Riven with a mighty blush "Please stop it, Yasuo! It's not like I am secretly a masochist or something and I am getting off this yo-you big handsome idiot!"

Yasuo smiles his signature charming smile and then stops spanking Riven since he is a fine gentleman that only spanks beautiful women after the second date. And speaking of women.. Oh no! Mansuo had promised Kayle a romantic diner in less than an hour and if he was late his eleventh wife might get angry and moody! Damn… Well, it wasn't like Yasuo couldn't overpower the celestial warrior with his skillful swordsmanship and his command over the wind element. The charming Ionian warrior had become immensely strong lately, especially after bedding Janna and becoming the only Wind Master in all of Valoran, and forming a contact with the strongest Wind Spirit!

But who else could the spirits of the air element pick to be their master if not for the handsome rogue that had managed to unite entire nations under the covers of his stained bed sheets? The Unforgiven nods politely at the panting red-face swordswoman and then resumes his everyday stroll. Leaving Riven muttering hushed curse behind him.

It was great being Yasuo, the most powerful and skillful champion in the entire Institute.


	116. Taste the power

**Tags: Lissandra, Brand, Tahm Kench.**

The camera lens wanders across a dystopian world that's filled with active volcanoes. Ash and black smoke waft about those great raised shafts of smoldering black stone, sizzling rivers of scorching red lava marking the land like raised blue veins in the limbs of an elderly person. The struggle of a distant feminine silhouette can barely be distinguished due to the smoke that covers the screen as the camera suddenly nosedives through the mist of the poisonous black smog.

The black emissions of the dying hollow mountains give way to a dense veil of scattered ash, little slivers of burnt matter swirling about melancholically like impure snowflakes caught at the wake of a maddening blizzard. The fiendish smoldering man that's standing at the very eye of the black snowstorm dramatically approaches the fleeing silhouette of the tall white-haired woman.

"I'm the fire that cleanses the world, Ice Witch!" Brand's words echo ominously amidst the thunderous rumbling of the bleeding mountains. Lissandra scowls as she attempts to throw a half-melted icicle at the approaching burning man, only for the Freljordian witch's magic to flicker pathetically at the end of her burnt fingertips and then dissolve harmlessly.

The sizzling earth underneath the Ice Witch's feet groans and shakes as if in mockery. Brand takes another lethargic step forward as the volcanoes behind him abruptly erupt, sending hot volleys of red lava and liquid rock towards the breached heavens right above them.

"I will purify this one." Brand raises his hands ominously, even as Lissandra hastily reaches for something in her purse and procures a simple rectangular box filled with Mentos. Liss puts a Mentos in her mouth and starts chewing vigorously as the fire demon prepares to attack her.

"The inferno begins!" The fiendish demon cackles maliciously as Brand unleashes all of his tremendous power upon Lissandra, exactly at the same time Liss opens her mouth and blows determinedly at the cruel fire demon.

The camera briefly flickers to a close-up of Lissandra's full blue lips as the Freljordian woman's lips suddenly part and a torrent of frigid cold air is abruptly expelled out of her open mouth. The camera lens instantly fogs, only to then be encompassed in a thick sheet of ice.

The screen momentary fades to black for a second, and when the spectators can witness the hellish landscape of the burning world once more, the fire demon has been seemingly frozen solid on the spot and everything else has been coated in a firm layer of fresh ice.

The visibly smug Ice Witch smiles triumphantly at the camera.

"Mentos," Lissandra grins confidently as she pushes another ivory mint into her mouth. "Em-power your senses."

The program then returns back to Tahm Kench's cooking show where the giant catfish is currently chopping Voidling tentacles.

"-Add just a pinch of nerfed Vel'Koz tentacles, Illaoi's sorrow, 2 grams of ginger and then carefully add the dried-up marksmen tears into the mixture." Tahm Kench pauses in order to take a tentative sip out of his ladle. "Sluuuurp! Ummm… delicious."


	117. Vampire Flu

**Summary: Elise learns that Vayne has come down with the vampire flu and decides to take advantage of it to bestow her terrible punishment on the wretched Night Hunter.**

 **Tags: Yuri, Elise, Vayne, adult themes and not enough plot to justify posting this story.**

 **Elise**

The Spider Queen waits patiently as the concerned guests of her bedridden prey wish Shauna a fast recovery. A few potted plants are thoughtfully set on the sickly vampire's simple bedstand, kind words that are only meant for the ears of the shivering Night Hunter are uttered in hushed, whispered voices, before the Demacian champions decide to let Vayne rest for the night.

The preying Spider Queen waits patiently, observing every fleeting interaction from the miniature cobweb that Elise had carefully woven near the shadowy ceiling of the dimly lit bedroom. Anyone that would happen to glance towards the _innocent_ spider that's been hovering above the door wouldn't be able to fathom the immense danger the deceivingly harmless critter posed for the currently vulnerable Demacian noblewoman.

A few minutes later and all the self-righteous fools have grudgingly vacated the Night Hunter's living quarters, save for the Spider Queen's weakened prey that is. The tiny spider stealthily descends from her cobweb in the relative darkness of the dark chamber with Shauna Vayne being none the wiser to the evil spider mage's ambush.

 **Vayne**

The Night Hunter shivers and shifts uncomfortably under her mountain of thick woolen blankets as Vayne attempts to fall asleep for the fifth time in less than an hour. The sick Demacian vampire's heavy limbs twitching involuntary every few seconds or so, Vayne's uneven breaths occasionally coming out of the pale vigilante's mouth in small fading clouds of hitched air.

Gods, how Shauna despised coming down with the vampire flu! The frequent bouts of crippling weakness that left her incapable of even standing on her own two feet, the intense cold shakes that left her shivering like a scared newborn puppy.

The small crowd of annoying acquaintances that suddenly remembered of her unfortunate existence. Always anxious for her wellbeing. Always pestering Vayne with their unnecessary ramblings and polite conversations alike. Unwittingly depriving the peeved scarlet-eyed patient of the peaceful rest that Shauna's body so adamantly demanded of her.

The hazy emergence of a humanoid silhouette from the shadows makes Shauna put an abrupt end to her inner musings.

"A-Ahri, is that you?" Mumbles uncertainly the sick, bedridden vampire. Vayne's unfocused eyes blinking owlishly as the Night Hunter attempts to decipher the identity of the smudged blurry shadow that's slowly approaching her.

The unexpected visitor doesn't reply, but stalks ominously towards the bed without pausing. Through the fog of her feverish and blurry vision Shauna is barely able to perceive a feminine shade looming quietly over her weakened form.

"You aren't Ahri, are you?" The shivering Demacian noble deduces dryly from the tense silence that stretches across the bedroom. The mysterious blurry woman simply chuckles at Vayne ominously.

Suddenly, without any warning and in a flash of terrifying speed the faceless shadow or the female intruder grabs the enormous pile of woolen blankets that are covering Vayne's form and violently jerks them away from the vampire's freezing body. The pale vigilante hisses weakly as the cold winter air rushes to imbue itself in her bones. A bleary pair of half-lidded red eyes glares blindly at the cruel perpetrator of that heinous act, even as said perpetrator silently throws the blankets over Shauna's shivering body once again. After climbing onto the mattress and lying down next to the frowning Night Hunter, that is.

A short moment later and blessed warmth abruptly engulfs Vayne's body as her mysterious visitor unceremoniously pulls the freezing Night Hunter close to herself. A sharp-nailed hand settles comfortably against Shauna's left hip, its pale sibling swiftly exerting pressure a little lower than the sickly patient's stiff shoulder blades, effectively keeping Shauna intimately close to the cruel intruder. The vampire sighs.

Vayne's tired eyes minutely attempt to catch a last peek of the tremendously blurry face of her intrusive assailant, before the weakened Night Hunter's exhaustion rears its ugly head and Shauna ruefully gives up and closes her heavy eyelids.

…Those tired sanguine eyes instantly turn into aggravated red slits that snap open in fury when Vayne suddenly feels the other woman kissing her.

Alarmed, the Demacian Night Hunter growls unhappily into Elise's unwanted kiss, all the while futilely attempting to push the Shadow Isles denizen away from her leaden body.

Elise merely hums in mocking contentment as she slowly deepens the two's shared kiss. One of the spider mage's clawed hands coming behind the trapped huntress' head in order to deny Vayne's escape, even as the cruel fingernails of the Spider Queen's other appendage painfully tighten their hold on Shauna's left hip under her black nightgown, mercilessly digging into the Night Hunter's pale thigh. The cultist smiles maliciously.

How do you damage someone that heals at an abnormally quick rate? That's the question that Elise had been pondering throughout planning her revenge on the famous Night Hunter. If Vayne's wounds closed quickly and the scars were not there to serve as heart-wrenching warnings of Elise's superiority, how could the cunning Spider Queen sink her venomous fangs into the very psyche of the illustrious Night Hunter?

And so with that cruel though in mind, Elise had devised a sinister plan to attack Vayne's heart instead of her body, to damage Shauna's pride instead of her skin. If the wretched Demacian vampire wanted to pass for a fearless predator, the Spider Queen would show the arrogant noble how much of a bottom feeder she truly was!

Sick and defenseless, powerlessly splayed bellow the tantalizing body of the cruel spider cultist Vayne would have no choice but to pitifully take all the teasing and the abuse that the Noxian priestess would fling her way. Every kiss, every caress, every touch that Vayne would be administered whilst being trapped in the curvaceous embrace of the cunning spider mage would be a staggering blow against Shauna's scarred heart. Every hushed release of the feverish vampire whimpered tearfully into the dark chamber would be more humiliation than the foolish vigilante could take.

And the best part of the whole plan was that Vayne would never dare talk about her ordeal to a single soul if she didn't want to damage her reputation and fuel even more attacks against her person and her cherished acquaintances.

Savoring the furious look that is plastered upon her trapped quarry's scowling visage, the smirking Spider Queen's hand lazily circles from the Night Hunter's bleeding hip to Shauna's sweaty lower abdomen before slipping down ever so slowly. The maroon slits of Vayne's eyes silently fade as the trapped pale huntress closes her eyes.

Elise leans backwards, just a bit, allowing her full scarlet lips to finally dislodge from the bruised lips of Vayne. Far enough so that Elise can hear the panting Demacian woman beg her to stop, close enough to silence her if the Night Hunter attempted to start screaming.

Vayne shivers, the pale vampire's shaking appears to have intensified due to the Spider Queen's recent actions. If the shaking is due to Shauna's fright, or her sickness or anger, the cruel spider cultist doesn't know, or care for that matter. After all, this was just business for Elise. Vayne had foiled the Spider Queen's plans and threatened to put an end to her terrible cult one time too many. The huntress needed to be stopped. She needed to be broken.

"I-I am only going to give you one chance and one chance only," Shauna pants and trembles as she takes deep hitched breaths in order to calm down herself. Elise's cruel hands still holding the Demacian huntress in place, the impatient fingers of one said appendage toying absentmindedly with the hem of Shauna's black lace underwear.

"Leave now and we can both forget about this. Stay and you will regret it."

"Foolish girl," Elise chuckles quietly as her arm abruptly releases its painful hold on Vayne's long ebony tresses in order to roughly grip Shauna's chin instead. Getting tired of observing the pathetic markswoman's crumbling facade of calmness under the argent moonlight that's slipping through the bedrooms window, Elise decides to make this personal.

"You are not in any position to give other people warnings, silly little fly."

The Spider Queen pauses. "Although, I guess that for once you are right, Night Hunter." Elise hums thoughtfully as she leans down to whisper her next words against the quaking vigilante's ear. "I truly regret not inviting Evelynn over so she can join us as I ravage you ceaselessly throughout the night. Evelynn would have enjoyed breaking you with me. Perhaps, _next_ time…" Elise hisses viciously against Shauna's ear.

Vayne stays still for a short moment and then she growls, red eyes suddenly snap open, burning in the black shadows like twin smothering suns. The next thing Elise knows her body is buried under the weight of the shaking Demacian vampire.

"W-what?" The merciless spider mage mutters under her breath, the Night Hunter's scowling visage suddenly too close for comfort, Elise's arms pinned down on the mattress by the immovable vices of the huntress' powerful hands. Through the window to the right that just so happens to be framing Vayne's shadowy form the spider cultist abruptly notices the silver disk of the full moon, hovering silently behind Shauna's head like a mystical argent halo.

The Spider Queen freezes. Elise knows how the influence of Diana's goddess affects some supernatural beings, and vampires in particular. How the bright sphere in the night sky empowers and greatly multiplies those predators' healing factors and strength. How the eerie whispers of the full moon make vampires and werewolves rash and aggressive, fogging their minds and dulling their thoughts until the big bad shades temporally become creatures of lust, anger and instinct.

And now Elise is trapped bellow such a feral growling beast. Pinned down against its bed in a dark empty room, utterly alone and in the mercy of Shauna Vayne.

"You should have left me alone when you had the chance, spider." The Night Hunter growls as her fangs slowly extend. And for the second time in that night Elise fully agrees with her bitter adversary. Mere moments later Elise screams as Vayne bites her neck.

 **The next morning…**

"Okay, guys, you know what to do!" Lux the usually cheerful and always smiling Lady of Luminosity stares determinedly at her companions with a grim expression plastered on her face.

Armed with a plastic flyswatter instead of her signature rapier, Fiora slightly nods her head at the concerned light mage, equally determined.

With his scowling visage partially obscured behind a bright yellow beekeeper helmet, Garen growls in agreement as he tightens his hold around the grip of his brand new butterfly net.

"We are ready when you are, Lux." Lucian replies, the Demacian Purifier's twin bug sprays already aimed cautiously towards the old wooden door with Vayne's name engraved on it. The four Demacian champions all glance wearily at the array of cobwebs that are littering Vayne's door.

Lux audibly swallows, trying to overcome her fear of spiders as the light mage's hand tentatively grasps at the doorknob uncertainly.

"Come on, Lux. You can do this!" The young Demacian blonde mumbles quietly as she wills her seemingly paralyzed hand to twist the cool doorknob. "Vayne is in danger and she needs your help! You have to rescue Shauna from the Spider Queen's fangs before it is too late!"

A particularly loud moan emanating from the other side of the door makes Lux steel her resolve as the brave light mage suddenly twist the doorknob and kicks open the door. A mighty war cry rips out of Luxanna's throat as the courageous Demacian woman swiftly raises her pink flyswatter in an admittedly threatening manner.

"Let go of Shauna right this instant! Don't make me use the flyswatter, Elise!"

Lux has less than two seconds to understand what she is currently seeing before Garen's protective fingers abruptly descend around his little sister's face, shielding her innocent naïve eyes from the horrendous spectacle that's lying ahead.

Elise and Vayne are cuddling together on Shauna's bed. The tousled state of the bed sheets that are coiled around the unlikely pair unwittingly revealing the two women's state of undress through the occasional tear in the torn linens coiled piles. Only Fiora notices the thin string of spider web that's wrapped around Elise's neck like a leash of sorts, with the tip of said leash held within Shauna's grasp. The Grand Duelist, however is too flabbergasted to comment about it. Poor Lux isn't faring much better it seems. The light mage's brain ceases to function as wide sky blue orbs manage to catch a quick glimpse of the former bitter enemies sharing a soft tender kiss. Garen suddenly lifts Lux in his strong arms and darts out of the Night Hunter's chambers as if the room is on fire.

"Is something the matter for you four to seek me out so early in the morning?" Asks Vayne in a deadpan and slightly annoyed tone and when Lucian and Fiora just keep staring at her in shock and bedazzlement, Shauna merely shrugs and leans down to tenderly press her fangs once more against the Spider Queen's already marked throat.

 **Extra: One Year Later…**

The wind is howling and swirling violently outside of the gargantuan building that houses the champions affiliated with the Institute of War. The fierce gusts of the approaching storm causing the flames of the countless torches that are lighting the ancient hallways of the Institute to sway and flicker. Shadows stretch and twist across the worn cobblestones that pave the floor, the window shutters creak and bang against the walls prompting startled looks and occasional yelps from the various occupants of the Institute's spacious chambers.

One such Institute resident appears to be more anxious than the rest of her fellow peers as two tired scarlet orbs wander across an almost faded piece of worn parchment. Those sad crimson eyes read the parting words of the missing Spider Queen again and again in a futile attempt to understand Elise's actions. Yet those simple lines don't offer much insight to the missing Spider Queen's inner thoughts.

' _Shauna, I am sorry. I can't explain to you why, but I have to leave from the Institute. Don't search for me and don't threaten Eve, (_ _please_ _) she won't know where I will go. I need some time to clear my head. I hope that you will be able to forgive me one day._

 _Always yours_

 _Elise'_

For what feels like an eternity Shauna kisses Elise's letter and then puts it under her pillow for safekeeping. Vayne closes her eyes as she slowly lies down to sleep.

*Knock *Knock

Maybe she should ignore it. Vayne stays perfectly still and pretends to be asleep, but the vampire has to get up and open the damn door when her obnoxious visitor keeps pounding on the door for almost five minutes straight with seemingly no intention of stopping.

"What is it?!" Shauna growls as she flashes her sharp pearly canines in front of her inconsiderate visitor. The Night Hunter's eyes instantly widen to the size of sauces when she greeted by the sight of a fidgeting Spider Queen at her doorstep.

All the pain and the anxiety, the haunting sleepless nights that Vayne had suffered in Elise's absence wondering if the Spider Queen had just been playing with her heart abruptly come back to torment the miserable huntress.

"What are you doing here, witch!" Vayne spits harshly causing Elise's eyes to fearfully dart elsewhere and her shoulders to stiffen. Even more angered by her former flame's silence, Shauna is about to slam the door shut in the cultist's face when Elise pleadingly grasps Vayne's wrist and stops her.

"Shauna, wait! Please, wait!" The cloaked woman's tone in laced with pain and despair as she tries to catch a glimpse of some semblance of warmth hiding in the glinting depths of the Night Hunter's scorching sanguine glare. "You can reject me and hate me all you want! I know I deserve it!" Elise continues in a broken, scarred voice "B-but there is someone that you have to meet!"

From the pocket of her inky black robe Elise reveals a small twitching Spiderling with six tiny red eyes.

"This is, Eli'Sha. Our daughter!" The cruel Spider Queen states with tears welling behind her despairing eyes.

"You are lying!" Suddenly yells Shauna. "Whose Spiderling is this, Elise! Who did you take in your bed after stealing my heart and abandoning me!?"

The cloaked woman frantically shakes her head. "Nobody, Shauna! You are the only one for me! This Spiderling is our lovechild!"

And as if to prove the truth of her claim the sobbing Shadow isles denizen slowly raises her hand with the tiny critter on it and the small Spiderling tumbles towards its other mother.


	118. Irelia Rework

**This is inspired by Irelia's rework so I guess it gets a Tragedy tag for reasons. On the other hand I found Irelia's 360 degree turn in personality funny so the story is now a Comedy! But... now that I think about it my jokes make people depressed so I tag it with Drama instead. Then again, making people depressed gives me a strange kind of comfort so Hurt/Comfort it is! But if while reading this story a reader starts begging the heavens for all the nonsense and the bad writing to stop, doesn't that make it Spiritual? Or is it Supernatural depending on that person's view of higher beings and powers? Can I tag it with confusion? Is that a thing here, if not can I make it a thing? If I make it a thing and the story motivates me to create something new doesn't that mean that the story is a motivational story? If it is a motivational story, then it can get a Family tag and that makes it a General story, right? Maybe I can tag it as an Adventure because I am having so much trouble finding the right tag for it? Hmmm... I'm just going to leave this one blank, I think. So… I guess it is a Mystery tag?  
**

It was another great day at the Institute of War! The weather was warm enough to melt Lissandra's obscure eyebrows, but not warm enough to fry Anivia's passive egg form. Humid enough as to make Tahm Kench sigh in contentment, but still too dry to save a dehydrated Nami from her imminent death as the dying Marai attempted to crawl back towards her giant fishbowl.

The birds were chirping loudly -just outside of Quinn's window where Valor and an obnoxious brown sparrow were fighting over which one of them had the right to soil the room's windowsill first.

The sun was shining brightly high in the sky -ruining Zed's shadow puppet show as the poor evil ninja attempted to impress Sona with a shadow puppet play of Little Red Riding Mask. A beloved classic Ionian fairy tale about a masked vigilante ninja girl that had somehow managed to dispatch a whole pack of murderous Vastayan wolves, thus preventing the bandits from stealing her master's basket filled to the brim with secret martial art scrolls and sacred kunai.

Long story short, it was a damn good day and the Ionian champions were presently eating inside the Mess Hall in order to save money for calligraphy tools, sailor uniforms and Star Guardian DVDs. Precious, exotic items that had become integrated with the rich culture of the faraway island country.

Regrettably, however, not all Ionian champions put their coin aside and only broke their Poro Banks to purchase scantily clad Lux figurines and painted tea sets or black tea leaves and the like. Oh, no! For there was a damn rebel hidden in the midst of the Ionian champion roster! A filthy degenerate of a Captain that spent every cent of her pocket money in daggers, swords, knives and generally anything sharp enough to give a poor Noxian invader a big booboo.

Irelia's weapon collection had first started small and humble with like, four blades that combined into a cool flying sword, but now the angsty black-haired warrior carried enough steel around to make Garen blush and had enough daggers on her person to make Katarina feel left out and forgotten.

Irelia's countrymen had of course instantly noticed the changes in the good Captain's recent behavior. Master Yi for example had quickly noticed how the Captain's striking emerald orbs would stray a bit too often towards his prized bladed boots whenever the two of them would occasionally converse or trained together… or when the two maniacally stalked Noxian champions at night from the shadows, and spitted on said champions' heads from the safety of their balconies when the Noxian scum were unlucky enough to take a stroll near the two's respective apartments…

Anyways! Shen had paid heed to the Will's sudden interest in his magical Ki blade. Karma was curious as to why Irelia kept spiting on the ground whenever she saw the Enlightened One or Karma tried to converse with her.

Yasuo would have sworn that he had seen Captain Lito stealing silverware, and more specifically cutting utensils from the Institute's kitchens and Mess Hall on more than one occasion...

But the one that had showed the most intrigue and wholeheartedly embraced this angry new Irelia was none other than Varus, the Arrow of Retribution himself! The two Ionian champions had quickly bonded over their hatred for Noxus and conventional weapons. Less than a week after the emergence of the _new_ Captain Lito, the angry lich and the cursed archer had become besties. The two had even made each other friendship bracelets out of the remnants of torn Noxian flags.

"How about some breakfast to go along with your tea, Irelia?" A softly smiling Karma once again attempts to bridge the gap between herself and the hotheaded Knife Stealer. "Would you like some of my pie? I put too much on my plate and I doubt I will be able to finish it by myself."

"That's what she said!" Yells Teemo from a nearby table. Karma simply ignores the Swift Scout even as Akali slowly rises from her seat and quietly strolls towards the widely grinning yordle.

"Argh! No! Stop it! Stop-ah! Arrrgh! This isn't supposed to bend this way!"

A few moments later, Akali returns back to the table and reclaims her seat next to an unblinking Shen. None of the Ionian champions comment on the female ninja's recent actions, or Teemo's whiny sobbing for that matter.

"I don't need your pie or to eat breakfast!" Answers Irelia in a loud and angry tone. "My hate for Noxus sustains me and gives me strength!" The Captain of the Ionian Guard hisses venomously. Master Yi instantly starts clapping, but is forced to stop when Karma glares at him sternly. Varus on the other hand laughs loudly and gives the undead warrior a happy high-five.

"Irelia, could you please stop acting like this? You were acting normally and were my friend just a mere week ago, what could have triggered this bizarre change in your behavior, dear Ire?"

"I deny your very existence!" Growls Irelia as she folds her arms in front of her breasts. The Ionian Captain turns her face sideways as to not look at Karma's sad visage anymore. Irelia had signed the rework contract.

"Ahem…" Varus loudly clears his throat and Irelia sends the corrupted white-haired archer a curious glance, before Varus pointedly jerks his head towards the large golden clock that's hanging above the Mess Hall's main serving area, and Irelia's eyes suddenly widen in terror.

"I hate Noxians! Noxians are scum! I am fucking angry and unique and a fucking badass! Fuck Trees and Freljordians and fuck space dragons for some reason!" The undead Ionian Captain hastily shouts as Irelia frantically starts shoving silverware into her already overflowing pockets. The giant golden clock's hands then move as to point at 10 o'clock and the Blade Stealer sighs in relief. Irelia knows that she is safe for at least an hour, before her rework contract will be endangered. Varus smiles at the panting lich approvingly. Until!..

"Hey, look at this guy's smile! It is so damn creepy, dude!" Says a pale male face that suddenly sprouts up on Varus' left cheek.

"I know, right?" Answers another male face that abruptly appears on the cursed archer's frowning right cheek this time. "It's really freaking me out, man! Straight people are so damn scary if you ask me!"

"What?" Mutters the tremendously confused Arrow of Retribution, only to be interrupted by the first new resident of his face with an angry growl.

"Don't you dare talk back to my heartlight like that, you creep!"

"Oh, Valmar!" Mutters one face in adoration.

"Kai.." Whispers the other one lovingly, and the two faces etched in Varus pale cheeks close their eyes and kiss hungrily, plunging their tongues inside a shocked, wide-eyed Varus' flaring nostrils.

* * *

 **Writer's Note: So many awesome reworks this year (sarcasm). The Noxians are just disciplined and misunderstood, not bloodthirsty warlords. Swain is an intelligent good guy (also misunderstood) with the face of Lucious Malfoy and the hand of Nero from Devil May Cry. Did Xin's rework even change him? Darkin Varus got stuck in a gay love triangle without his consent. Maybe THAT'S what made him evil! (Ducks under the table) …Not those kind of ducks…**

 **And now EdgyAttemptNumber105 joins the League. Borrowing Wonder Woman's armor and headpiece, Irelia (and the emotionless face of someone that's had too many facelifts to change expression while taunting and yelling at others) are back! Well, at least the personality change empowers the rivalry-lover Karma x Irelia ship. Or maybe the one with Ahri since Irelia's voice is softening and only shows positive emotion in that one line. Or maybe it's Ivern because it is the first I saw in the Interactions video. So… is it IreliaxIvernxAhri? I ship it. Ivern will provide the wood for the ship if needed. The ecosystem of a love triangle with Professor Drawing.**


	119. Haunted house exploring

**Summary: A young Lux decides to explore the abandoned house atop the hill.**

The little blonde-haired girl sniffled quietly as it walked by the dreadful, ruined gardens. A pair of short hurried feet clumsily navigate between the withered flowers and potted plants that were left to decay in the absence of the mansion's patient gardeners. The tall ugly weeds that grew uncontrollably around the tombstone of the deserted home forming an imposing fence around the Vaynes' property. Chocking the scarce rays of faint sunlight in an almost peculiar and alarming way.

Still sniffling and shaking with sadness the young and heartbroken daughter of the Crownguard family hastily makes her way to the Red Manor's gaping front door. Like every other time that the young child had stood before the exposed jaws of her secret hideout, Luxanna's eyes can't help but wander across the blatant signs of decay scarring the Red Manor's exterior in the form of flimsy, rotted wood and countless hanging cobwebs. The window panes of the haunted house are all broken, with tiny pieces of filthy glass still littering the windows ledges or being stuck in-between their snapped frames. The torn fabrics of old curtains the colors of which have long since faded with the passage of time can sometimes be spotted wavering unnervingly before the dark empty eye sockets of the deserted manor's second floor.

Most sensible children in Demacia, be it due to pure instinct, or naïve fear, or even the increasing sense of unease that overtook one whenever they approached the ol' haunted house tended to avoid the grisly sight of the lifeless Red Manor. The haughty servants and maids gossiping mixing with their parents' numerous stern warnings to construct the frightful terrors that resided within the empty mansion's dusty walls.

Many a time had Lux eavesdropped Garen and his friends conversing about the ghosts and witches that were hiding inside the basement of the abandoned house at the top of the hill. Sometimes the boys' secretive whispers told of a Noxian murderer that had somehow managed to slip within the city's walls and was now preying on the unfortunate children that wandered too close to the rickety old house. Some other times a strange hunchbacked blind woman would be found chopping human limbs in the kitchen, or a cloaked bloodstained Grim Reaper would be seated on one of the living rooms dirty armchairs near the fireplace, humming quietly and terribly.

Perhaps it had to be expected, but after spending so many months and even some years of listening to the concerned maids' ceaseless warnings about the old house at the other end of the town, Lux had decided to discover which terrible rumor was actually true. So, armed with her naïve courage, her hurt childish pride (Garen and Jarvan had called her a scaredy-cat for refusing to touch that dead frog they had found.) a toy baton with a prism attached to it and her strange gift of making her fingertips glow, Lux had decided to challenge the beast that scared both the adults and her fellow peers alike. Late one night, the little blonde toddler had abandoned the safety of her warm bed to search the Red Manor and defeat the evil being that resided within it…

 **0000**

*Crunch, crunch, crunch, the blonde child's reluctant footsteps echoed alongside the sad remains of the Red Manor's decrepit driveway. The once perfectly flat and polished stones of the steep path that formerly allowed carriages and messengers to reach the Vaynes were nothing more than faded trails flooded with wild vegetation nowadays. The pathway itself was indiscernible from the rest of the ruined gardens as far as anyone could remember. The once pristine cobblestones were now loose and cracked, while some of the jagged slabs were missing, forming shallow holes that collected filth and occasionally, rainwater.

*Huff, huff, huff, little Lux pants as she moves in the inky black darkness, shedding a thin ray of pale light from her toy baton in order to light her way. The faint, twine-like beam of glimmering mana of the noble child's magical light bounces off exposed tree roots, rubbish and grey rocks with each new courageous step of the defiant toddler mage. Shadows seem to shift and twist near the corner of the adventurous youth's vibrant blue eyes, only to freeze and harmlessly dispel whenever Lux points her makeshift flashlight near their scheming dark forms.

The angry barking of a guard dog somewhere far away makes Lux shiver, as her hesitant feet reluctantly stop in front of the deserted manor's missing door. Carefully and ever so skeptically with a deep sense of unease finally unfolding below the ribs of the blue-eyed child, the flickering beam of yellow hope dances across twisted door hinges and wooden rectangles that may have once served as a pair of sturdy double doors. Lux's eyes minutely pause to examine the black flakes of old paint left on the ground near the damaged great doors.

Something once again shifts near the edge of Luxanna's vision. The toy light baton is instantly pointed towards a shadowy bush that rustles softly in the cold midnight gale. Lux gulps, and unwittingly takes a step back crossing the Red Manor's unwelcoming threshold.

"It's ok, Lux." The young toddler's voice rings uncertain as the miniature noblewoman takes a few deep breaths in order to recompose herself. "There is no Noxian fugitive or mad hag hiding around the old Vaynes' house. Garen and his friends are silly to think otherwise!"

Sky blue orbs travel across the dark hallways of the rundown mansion, taking in the sights of peeling white paint and dusty defaced portraits. There is more rubbish littering the floor of the decrepit old building as Lux takes a few tentative steps forward with her small heart beating thunderously like a war drum in her ears. Splintered furniture, filthy rags, shards upon shards of broken glass and stomped porcelain. The list goes on as the young mage-child steels itself and starts checking the Red Manor's rooms for signs of the notorious mad hag. Luxanna's light footsteps echoing ominously in the unnatural silence that is permeating the old empty house.

The floorboards squeak underneath the brave blonde sprite's shaking feet. The damp doors, moldy and warped as they are due to the rainwater that slips in throughout the season due to the countless holes in the roof, creak loudly as Lux strenuously pushes them open.

Time losses its meaning for Lux as the courageous little munchkin breathlessly examines trashed servants' rooms and bedrooms engulfed in repulsive grey spider webs. Most of the chambers and collapsed corridors that Lux dares to peek into seem to be entirely devoid of life. Plain empty wrecks full of damaged antiques and dirty surfaces.

There is no sign of human skulls, bloody cleavers and heinous bandits. No Grim Reaper with eyes that promise a painful death, cloaked shades with spectral chains hellishly rattling behind their ankles.

Around twenty minutes after setting off in the middle of the night to prove Garen and Jarvan that there is nothing sinister hiding in the ol' Vaynes' house, Lux's sense of fear is quickly replaced by a feeling of accomplishment and smug pride.

Sky blue orbs lose their frightened hesitant luster as Luxanna's until then booming heartbeat gradually calms down. Small childish fingers stop holding the toy baton in a white-knuckled death grip as a small pleased smile settles on the face of the young light witch. With her innate curiosity and her adventurous spirit taking the wheel at last, Lux becomes more daring and less cautious in her exploring, inspecting each new room more closely. Searching for shiny things, interesting trinkets and hidden treasures underneath the beds' torn mattresses and among the smelly piles of rusted iron and burnt books.

Lux will have to find something neat to prove to the boys that she really visited the crumbling house atop the hill. Then Garen and Jarvan will have no other choice that to admit that she is brave enough to be included in their games and they will all play knights together!

So Lux needs something that undoubtedly belongs to the Vaynes' before she returns back to her room. A broken letter opener with the dead clan's initials etched on its hilt, a torn flag with the forgotten house's coat of arms, a misplaced diary, a cracked signet seal. Something of that nature.

"I need to find some keepsake of the Vaynes or Garen and Jarvan will never believe that I came here and accept to play with me!" The blonde toddler murmurs absentmindedly as her tiny hands desperately comb the heaps of discarded odds and ends. Rusty, crumbling and utterly useless broken items being hurled carelessly behind Lux's heaving back as the young rascal continues searching for treasures among the disorganized pile of filthy objects.

One such small and utterly useless thing promptly lands near the child's dirty fingers. The scratched golden ring with the intricate capital V letter produces a clear and yet startling sound as it gently lands near the kneeling form of the preoccupied blonde-haired toddler. Lux grasps the ring curiously.

"Will this do?" A raspy feminine voice asks gruffly from the ebony shadows of the old bedroom's dark entrance, and the courageous blonde girl feels her blood turn to ice.


	120. Snippet Collection

**A few of the snippets I have written during the previous year. Some of them are humorous PM replies, others are shipping experiments or spontaneous ideas I wanted to write before I forgot about them. Some of them are just story ideas I didn't like enough to serialize or expand further.**

 **How to bring characters together. Yuri Shipping.**

It was a normal day at the Demacian market. The merchants were yelling the names and the prices of their wares, couples were browsing through stalls with jewelry and trinkets, and the majority of the Demacian champions were having a pretty good time just walking around this colorful parade of scents, spectacles and sounds. Until...!

"Everyone freeze!" Suddenly shouts a familiar Zaunite troublemaker as Jinx jumps on top of a pottery stall and kicks the fragile goods away. Loud murmuring rises from the direction of the startled wandering citizens as Jinx places both of her palms near her mouth and continues her crazy and eccentric antics.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You are all a wonderful audience," The blue-haired woman giggles as she stuffs a hand inside her pocket, before pulling out a pink detonator. "And nooow, ladieees and gentlemen! I would like to direct your attention to this here rosy thingy!"

A few armored city guards slowly start approaching the Zaunite lunatic with dark expressions marring their faces and spears held threateningly in their hands.

"No, no, no! You don't want to scare me with your shiny and sharp-looking spears, you sillies!" Mockingly exclaims the widely grinning Zaunite lunatic. "Because if you do so, I might accidentally push this teeny-weenie button here that will make the biggest pet shop in all of Demacia go boom in a second! Think of all those poor drooling puppies!"

The guardsmen take a quick step back after hearing that dreadful declaration coming from the grinning lips of the unhinged Loose Cannon. The vast collective of the Demacian citizens that are present, gasp and cover their mouths in sheer horror. Everybody loves puppies and free ice-cream, after all. Lux gasps too from between Vayne and Sona, unwittingly drawing the female psycho's attention.

"Well, hello to you too, Screamy Lady. You know, you look a lot taller in the League matches." Jinx offers the blonde light mage an insane smile, before her twinkling eyes rove over to Vayne, and spot Shauna's cold crimson glare pointed at her. "Gloomy-pants! I didn't know you liked marketplaces! Why, we could visit one together some time and have fun shooting prizes and running things! Would you like that Gloomsy?"

Jinx's smile then turns predatory as the psychopath's gaze darts mischievously between Luxanna Crownguard and the always moody Night Hunter. "Kiss each other!" The Loose Cannon grins as the attention of the Demacian citizens turns towards their currently stunned female representatives. "Gloomy-pants, go suck face with Screamy lady over there or the poor little puppies go **boom!** " Smiles the terrorist.

* * *

 ** _Teemo as a Sheriff, carrying a rifle and acting like a detective-cowboy_**

"You're a long way from Zaun, sister." The gruff yordle mutters with a gaze as hard as steel, small furry fingers absentmindedly tapping against the handle of the hex-tech rifle that's pointed towards the pink-haired vagabond's face.

Both the renown Sheriff of Furover and the injured vigilante known as Vi remain quiet for a few tense moments. Sizing each other up with stiff, rigid shoulders and visages twisted into dark frowns.

And it is only around five minutes later when Vi has lost far too much blood to be able to stand up and the sirens of the approaching police cars and ambulances shred the cold midnight air like red and blue descending knives, that the short yordle Sheriff finally decides to lower his barrel reluctantly.

"Whatchu doing in my city, lassie?" Teemo questions the wounded criminal as his brown eyebrows furrow in deep thought. But Vi refuses to answer and the cunning yordle merely scowls at her as his army of deputies practically fly out of their screeching vehicles. Quinn literary flies out of her police cruiser.

The Sheriff of Furover sighs, fishing inside the pockets of his purple dress for his smokes while his fellow police officers proceed to handcuff Vi and then lead her towards a medic.

Teemo's eyes remain distant, solemn, as the first tendrils of white smoke slowly escape from the brave yordle's lit cigarette. The sheriff's cold glare then moves across the now crowded tunnel, calm eyes observing the crimson puddles of Vi's still warm blood pooling over the floor. The discarded gauntlets that had recently aided the brash pinkette in saving the lives of those poor trapped miners…

Teemo takes a deep breath and then sighs before throwing away his fag with a pained grimace. The righteous Sheriff of Furover then turns his back on the burning paper cylinder and the collapsed diamond mines. He starts walking towards the handcuffed woman. Slowly, seethingly, **dramatically**. The Sheriff's skirt wavers gently in the cold autumn air.

Behind Teemo, the bulky, white title of the show, _Fur and Order_ starts appearing above the walking silhouette of the gruff brave yordle, reflecting the red and blue lights of the parked vehicles emergency beacons for a moment or two. Then the lights slowly vanish and the camera fades out. Only the title remains before it too disappears to the sound of a distant gunshot.

Further plot.

Teemo then is tasked with protecting a Zaunite immigrant that has knowledge of dangerous wind magic, and so our hero starts living together with Vi and Janna (the latter is in protective custody) and Vi gets jealous but won't admit it when Teemo and Janna start interacting with each other. Teemo being a professional and treating Janna better than Vi since he hasn't warmed up to his new partner yet. Janna, coming from Zaun and having very few chances of interacting with normal people in the past enjoys her short talks with the gruff furry detective. She starts asking Vi about Teemo and his mysterious past. Vi gets annoyed since she doesn't know much about the Sheriff either, and Janna's sudden interest in what she considers a black-hearted bastard gets on the pinkette's nerves.

The three champions live and learn to work together to solve cases while their feelings for each other strengthen and blossom like Zyra's favorite lilies.

* * *

 **Not your cliché defeated damsel ending. Mature content warning.**

"Please, Teemo!" A defeated and chained Kayle asks whilst eyeing the small army of naked Teemo clones fearfully. "Please, don't tickle my sensitive wings anymore." The exhausted angel begs with glistering blue orbs, "And I will do _anything_ for you in exchange."

The dark smile marring the powerful yordle's visage widens as the twelve nude Teemo clones slowly approach the frightened chained celestial.

"Anything, you say? Is that really true, dove?" The Swift Scout asks and Kayle can only gulp before nodding her head in dreading acceptance.

...

"Huff, huff, huff" Kayle pants, sweat glistering against the Judicator's nude body.

A leather whip rises only to descend against warm exposed flesh eliciting a loud moan from the abused handcuffed figure it strikes.

"Do you like that?" Kayle mockingly asks the restrained masochistic yordle and Teemo nods at once with fervor. Kayle's hand then moves to pinch another hogtied Teemo clone's nipple.

"W-what about you, s-scum? Do you like being my little boy toy?" The red-faced celestial stutters, Kayle's prominent blush intensifying upon spotting the fake yordle's raging erection.

"Yeth Mithtress!" A third breathless Teemo clone croaks in pure bliss, the furry man's words partially muffled due to Kayle's panties filling his drooling mouth.

"G-good!" Kayle manages to grunt as she pauses to knee another pitiful excuse of a yordle in the genitals.

The lucky Teemo clone instantly collapses on the floor with a perverted blush coloring his furry cheeks and his precious mushroom clutched between his fingers.

The blushing judicator then stomps that Teemo's face with her foot and Kayle yelps in surprise when the Swift Scout clone starts happily licking at her toes.

* * *

 **Riven x Akali plot draft. Romance or Friendship.**

Riven is sent for a checkup at the Institute's infirmary when she first joins the League. Akali recognizes her as the soldier that secretly fed her when she was captured by Noxians during the war and had been tasked with spying on the invaders. The Kinkou ninja was tied to a pole and had her legs broken, she was abandoned there under the scorching sun for days. At some point Riven took pity on her and brought her some food, but being stubborn, suspicious, filled with hate and fearful Akali bites Riven's fingers with all the strength she can muster scarring them deeply.

During the last march the Noxians tie Akali in front of some sieging contraption in order to use her as a meat shield against her people and break the Ionians' morale. But then the Zaunite bombardment happens and during the chaos that ensues Akali is left to die tied to the carriage-whatever, choking in the acidic chemicals and suffocating. Riven returns back for her and drags the Ionian ninja away from the fumes before making a run for it. Back in the institute Akali sees Riven's burns during the checkup and the teeth scars on the soldier's pale fingers and thanks the Exile for saving her life. Riven doesn't know how to deal with a former enemy's gratitude and thus tells Akali that she is thanking the wrong person. The medical ninja simply hums thoughtfully, but lets the matter slide for the time being. Akali silently continues with Riven's checkup.

* * *

 **Riven x Lux Ionian War draft. Romance or Friendship**.

I don't remember if I have turned this into a story and posted it since I have been thinking of the concept forever. Lots of my stories revolve around enemies turning into lovers too.

Lux is sent to spy the Noxians during the war, she is however detected by Noxian patrols and gets captured. Somewhat roughed up and with her magical baton taken away from her the light mage's future looks grim, especially in a camp full of Demacian-hating pent up soldiers. Riven merely watches at first as Lux is being threatened, beaten and about to be sexually assaulted, but finding her countrymen's behavior honorless and seeing no point in tormenting the weak she uses her rank to assume the position of the captured Demacian's jailer. Riven treats Lux coldly, but not sadistically, and lets Lux sleep next to her during the night so the Demacian noble won't be assaulted by her peers in the middle of the night. Funny and peculiar as it is, the light mage starts feeling safe in the arms of the Noxian warrior since no interrogations or mockery take place during the night. Hesitantly and ever so slowly, Lux starts seeing the good hidden in Riven by observing her behavior and actions though the day. She starts thinking of Riven as a blunt and stern, yet kind friend.

The Noxians soon prepare for the final march and it is decided that Lux will be sent to walk the ruined land of Ionia to her death since the crops and forest were destroyed by the Noxian invaders and the rivers and wells were poisoned leaving no food or clean water behind. Death by starvation, the Noxians are sending Luxanna unarmed to her death, letting her return without supplies to her country in a land that's being ravaged by deserters-turned-thieves and stranger-suspicious, enraged Ionian rebels.

In a public display of cruelty and under the scrutinizing gazes of her fellow peers Riven walks up to the tied Demacian and removes her restrains, before punching the released spy in the stomach. She quickly follows up by spitting on the stunned young woman's blonde hair and kicking up dirt towards her kneeling form. The Noxians then turn around and leave while laughing, abandoning a doomed Lux to her fate. The Demacian remains still, with her head hanging low and her heart nearly shattered. Lux starts sniffling as she mentally chastises herself for trusting a Noxian and thinking of them as her friend. Garen was right, Noxians were the worse, Lux was an idiot for believing otherwise.

Still grimacing in pain –Riven had punched her really hard, and with pained, betrayed tears shining in her sky blue orbs Lux attempts to stand up on her shaky feet, only for a small note to slip from where the hands of the captured spy had been clutching at the recently formed bruise in her hurt stomach. Lux blinks confusedly as she tentatively grabs the note and realizes that it is a messily-scribbled map leading to a hidden supply cache near her current location. The thunderstruck light mage also finds her magical baton waiting for her near the small collection of canned foods that Riven had left for her, and manages to return home in one piece. Lux reads about the Zaunite chemical barrage that annihilated both the Noxian and Zaunite armies in the newspapers when she returns, and promptly leaves Demacia to join the League.

Lux aspires to use her powers there without her country's tyrannical control over them. She decides to help all the people that need her help, regardless of their nationalities and ideals, and to completely disregard the Demacian propaganda that she had been forced to recite and parrot as a child. A few months later, a cloaked and weathered figure appears at the institute's doorstep. Lux happens to be passing by that pale, scarred shadow on her way to the Mess Hall. The Lady of Luminosity instantly halts and spins around, but the pale ghost of her past is missing and the corridor is deserted. Lux merely shakes her head and heads to the Mess Hall. Meanwhile Katarina's striking emerald orbs suddenly widen in recognition as she spots what looks like a travel-weary Riven knocking on the door of the Head Summoner.


	121. Elementary school teacher

**Tags: Drama, Jinx**

The unruly toddlers of Piltover's Second Elementary School were more excited and hyper than usual that day. The children were yelling and laughing, pushing each other and fidgeting in their uncomfortable seats. A brand new teacher had been appointed to their little homey class that day, you see. An interesting fair-skinned woman with very long, braided blue hair and a mischievous glint visible in her shining magenta-colored eyes.

Miss Fishbones, as the children's new science teacher had introduced herself to them a few minutes prior in a cheery and spirited tone, was currently trying to fit a giant metal crate full of mini nukes and other volatile explosives through the classroom's moderately narrow doorframe.

Huffing and panting, the crazy-eyed woman grunts as she finally manages to squeeze both the dangerous metal box and her slim body through the old doorframe and enters the classroom with a strained exhale and a satisfied smirk. And while almost dropping the damn thing in the process…

Miss Fishbones somehow manages to catch her explosive teaching material in her thin pale hands and then stumble forward towards the teacher's desk near the blackboard.

Jinx proceeds to unceremoniously dump the metal crate on top of the ancient ugly desk. With a Gleeful smirk then stretching across her face, the retired Loose Cannon turns to address her expectant and curious pupils.

"Okay, squirts, are you ready for the first lesson of the day?" The reformed mad woman grins from ear to ear at her class in what Jinx hopes is a casual and easygoing manner.

 _She is going to do this thing! Actually, going to do this!_ No more postponing her dreams and distracting herself with shooting at delivery drones and empty mailboxes. No more doubting and denying her hopes and true calling. Being an elementary school teacher had always been Jinx's aspiring dream, you see. Right after becoming a circus performer, a teddy bear surgeon and opening the first-ever bakery in the heart of the Void. Jinx truly had a lot of dreams as one may suspect, and the former Loose Cannon was about to make one of those dreams a grand reality in less than a few measly milliseconds!

Heedless of their new Science teacher's inner monologue, the young students present yell and clap their hands expectantly. Jinx takes in the sight of her pupils' beaming faces and shakes her head to get rid of her useless doubts.

 _You can do this, Jinx!_ The former Zaunite terrorist thinks as she grins at her classroom confidently. Her first Science lesson is gonna be a huge blast with these kids, Jinxy just knows it!

"Alright then, brats! Now who amongst you wants to learn about the Big Bang and the mother of all explosions!" The Loose Cannon asks cheerfully, lazily pointing her thumb backwards towards the metal crate with the _liberated_ bombs andexplosives. Elementary school teachers weren't allowed to steal things after all! No, Sir! They were just supposed to confiscate dangerous things from misbehaving youths and rude demolition crews. Jinx had read that last guideline in a famous teaching book that she had imagined herself writing just the day before yesterday.

A few chubby hands instantly fly in the air. Most of the children in the class think that explosions are really cool, like when the Morphing Demacian Rangers defeat the big monster while piloting their assembled rainbow-themed robot.

Jinx happily nods her head as she starts fumbling for the bombs' detonator in her pockets.

"Alright then! Listen to me and listen closely, you little rebellious squirts," The former Loose Cannon finally succeeds in finding the small hex-tech device. It was in her short's back pocket. Who would have known! Jinx had been sitting on it the whole drive from her secret hideout in the slums to Piltover's Second Elementary School. Good thing the bombs didn't go off before today's lesson! That would have been embarrassing. Embarrassing _and_ unprofessional. Caitlyn and Vi would have no doubt laughed at her misfortune!

"Are you all paying attention to me?" The grinning blue-haired woman asks excitably. All of the children proceed to nod, or mumble, or wave. 'Yes, Miss Fishbones.' They parrot.

"Good!" The mad azure-haired woman sighs in immense relief. "Because I will only be able to press the big red button once! This is gonna be the best Science class ever!"

A second later and Jinx's finger slams on the button. Piltover's Second Elementary instantly disappears.

* * *

 **But all in all I still think that Jinx would be a suitable elementary school teacher. She would use sock hand puppets and talk in her fake Fishbones voice and she has a children's mentality so she would get along with the brats. She would just need her fellow teacher Caitlyn to babysit her along with the other kids to avoid her making trouble.**


	122. Club Shake

**Tags: Clubs, Yuri, Mature stuff.**

The horrendous buzzing of the electronic music that's engulfing the dark room makes Riven wish that she was deaf as the stoic, exiled swordswoman continues taking small sips of her drink from her dirty glass, whilst being seated near the black counter. All around her, clearly inebriated men and women are moving their bodies to the beat of DJ Sona's latest masterpiece. The rotating neon lights bounce against the shifting blender of about a hundred sweaty, youthful bodies. Strangers and lovestruck couples alike jerking and turning, quaking merrily inside this grand, stirring bowl of intoxicated souls and soon-to-be soiled naivety. The dancers' expressions are adventurous, their touches impossibly daring. The strangers' hands clasp together and their arms fold as the aching bodies move closer, anonymous shades hidden under the bleeding veil of the flowing hex-lights.

The minutes keep slipping by as the clubbers seemingly alternate between shuffling their feet on the cramped dance floor, or dragging their partners towards the club's restrooms for a quickie. As the night progresses some of the newly-formed couples become braver due to the cheap alcohol that's flooding their veins. The inebriated strangers start to kiss under the flickering neon lights of the always crowded dance floor.

Shifty flocks of drunken, laughing people head for the exit with quick and impatient strides. All the while, heartbroken loners sink deeper into the flattened leather cushions of the tall barstools. The stained rectangle of the ivory bar welcomes them heartily. Empty glasses clink sorrowfully as hopes and dreams drain.

Riven doesn't know much about Shen Shui, fashion trends or whatever passes for innovative interior design these days, but she finds the spinning neon lights annoying as they create colorful reflections against every furniture in the dimly lit room. The steady stream of similar, yet alternating power chords spewing out of the clubroom's jolting loudspeakers are giving the pale warrior a headache, too.

The exiled swordswoman sips more of the watered down alcohol in her half-empty glass as the moody albino's eyes follow the drunken movements of a particular redheaded woman that's swaying to the beat of the music alongside the other dancers.

Katarina looks dazed and tired, and more than a little inebriated as the fiery redhead proceeds to suggestively rub her body against the pulsating hips and chests of the other clubbers on the dimly lit dance floor. A pair of short-haired blonde twins, a man and a woman, from what Riven can make out in the darkness, immediately take a liking to the drunken antics of the infamous Du Couteau heiress. The daring and obviously buzzed twins flirtatiously press their sculpted bodies against that of the Noxian assassin. Their movements raw and primal, lustful. Like an experienced pair of hunters that are carefully leading a lone gazelle away from the rest of her herd, the twin siblings pull Katarina to the edge of the dimly lit dance floor.

The stained glass of cheap whiskey almost shatters inside the fuming albino's white-knuckled grip, as Riven watches from her seat near the bar the two siblings flirting and kissing with her visibly tipsy, former girlfriend.

Smiles and muffled groans are exchanged below the ephemeral dazzling rays of the artificial hex-tech rainbow dispenser. Eager hands roam across even more eager hot bodies, fingertips tugging at the hems and collars of disheveled, band t-shirts, plain white shirts and the dangerously dipping of crinkled cleavages.

Riven's frowning lips form a tense straight line as she silently observes Katarina hungrily kissing the shapely blond woman first and then half-turning to plant her lips against those of the grinning man that keeps rubbing his groin against her seductive thighs. Mere seconds later and the departure of a giggling couple of teenage girls opens a temporary pocket in the sea of horny, dancing seducers. Too small for anyone to reach Katarina and dance near the intoxicated Du Couteau, but certainly big enough for the albino warrior to notice the greedy hands of the lecherous twins hungrily exploring the redhead's shapely body.

Those cursed, wretched, _foreign_ paws slip underneath the horny heiress' revealing clothes, cupping Katarina's feminine curves in their palms. Hot breaths ghosting over the intoxicated redhead's peerless skin. The twins' pearly, white teeth leaving soft trails across Katarina's delicious neck, teasing the assassin's exposed flesh, tickling the Noxian's jawline.

The stained, filthy glass shatters inside the furious grasp of the frowning exiled swordswoman. Cheap whiskey and the occasional droplet of sanguine blood wetting the hand of Riven as the Exile quietly watches Katarina pulling the blonde man for another hungry, passionate kiss. The two Noxians' eyes briefly meet over the shoulder of the aforementioned smirking blonde dancer. Kat keeps her stare even as she deepens the kiss, the cruel heiress then begins massaging the man's crotch. Neither of the blonde siblings notices the short exchange taking place between the two former lovers, or the hateful glare of the seething swordswoman directed their way, for that matter.

Mere seconds later, the fallen assassin ends their kiss. Katarina leans forward to whisper something against her new conquest's ear, then drags the grinning blonde twins towards the club's restrooms by their wrists.

Riven closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath to calm down her nerves. _One, two, three dead Zaunite scientists. Four, five, six, seven, eight_ …

The breathing exercise doesn't help as much as the usually disciplined and stoic Exile would have expected. Perhaps it has something to do with the terrible music that is filling the deserter's ears, or the neon lights that are mockingly spinning overhead as a growl escapes Riven's lips. Perhaps the cause for the pale swordswoman's immense agitation can be found in the endless string of vivid images depicting Katarina in the throes of passion that Riven's damn brain keeps constructing against the Exile's better judgment.

Less than five minutes later, the albino swordswoman kicks open the Restrooms' door. The hateful echo of DJ Sona's electronic music fades away, only to be quickly replaced by the moans of the intoxicated couples that are currently occupying the bathroom's stalls.

The pale ex soldier lets her former flame's familiar moans lead her outside of the right booth, before Riven breaks the door with a single well-aimed kick in the lock that makes the wood splinter around the deformed metal. The albino swordswoman doesn't waste her time with needless words and logical explanations as she swiftly grabs the female twin by the hair and shoves her outside of the bathroom stall. The male one yells something in protest while struggling with the buckle of his belt. Riven notices Katarina's lipstick smudged against the faded fabric of his jeans. She doesn't think, she just cocks her arm back and punches him straight in the nose.

The drunken man falls down with a startled scream of pain, his palms rising to clench at his broken nose as it spills blood on the bathroom's floor. Some couples, the ones that aren't too drunk to realize what's happening, decide to flee from the Restrooms. Riven suddenly feels the weight of the other twin slamming against her rigid back. The scarred swordswoman calmly elbows the poor girl in the throat. Riven then turns around, grabs her nearly hysteric brother by his bloodstained shirt and fling him towards his chocking sister.

"Get out of here or I will break your bones." The former Noxian growls and the two siblings grudgingly scatter whilst shooting the crazy albino scorching and hateful glares. The horrible music from outside minutely returns until the Restrooms' door is slammed closed again. Then relative silence descends in the bathroom.

Riven slowly turns around to glare at her former girlfriend and the sick, evil grin that she is sporting. Katarina hasn't stopped masturbating since the fighting started. Now, the sadistic redhead looks at the scowling Exile with a seductive expression marring her beautiful visage as she approaches the silent deserter. Katarina leans down to lick a droplet of warm blood off Riven's pale face. The betrayed swordswoman shoves the assassin away without a word. Riven silently exits the restroom. Utterly alone, left hollow in the quietness of the club's deserted restroom, the fallen Noxian heiress sighs disappointedly, the red curtain of Katarina's long crimson hair effectively hiding the shaking assassin's glistering tears.


	123. The ABCs of Murder

"Hmmm…" Swain the Grand General of Noxus hummed, deeply in thought as he paced back and forth in the safety of his luxurious office. Gathered around the crippled old devil, the Noxian champions also murmured lowly. The excited eyes of the crafty tactician's elite company decidedly pinned on the simple, yet invaluable parchment that had been recently set on Swain's imported, mahogany coffee table.

"What about.. apple?" Says the wrinkled and scarred war veteran after a while. "Apple is a short and simple word. Perhaps it isn't a word with a special meaning or one that instills fear in the hearts of whoever hears it, but it will certainly serve us well as the first word in our new Noxian alphabet book." Swain continues.

The rest of the gathered champions paused in their musings to consider the wizened old warlock's words, save for Sion that's always impatient. The hulking juggernaut deftly dips a pen made of bone in a wide bottle of ink and writes the first sentence of the new primer.

' _A is for AAAAArgh, the word foes scream in pain!'_ Proudly writes the Undead Juggernaut. The other Noxians present either facepalm or snort and cackle faintly in amusement.

"That isn't even a word, you big undead oaf!" Tersely sighs Vladimir as he glares daggers at the hulking monstrosity that is currently seating on the couch by the blood mage's side.

"Settle down! Settle down, I say, children!" Swain attempts to calm down the complaints and accusations of his greatest, most undisciplined chess pieces. "What is done is done now. We will simply have to do better in the next passage."

With a startling speed that surprises his peers, Vladimir steals the bone pen from the giant hand of the Undead Juggernaut and hastily scribbles something on the clean parchment. The other Noxians grumble as they lean down to inspect Vladimir's handiwork.

' _B is for Blood.'_ Spell the small cursive letters penned by the smug Crimson Reaper. _'The greatest thing in all of Valoran after bloodstains, bloodshed and of course bleeding, and frequent bloodbaths.'_

The small company of frustrated Noxian champions are too busy cursing at the moronic Hemomancer's stupidity when an ecstatic Draven steals the writing utensil this time and quickly scribbles down his glorious thoughts in the primer.

"C is for Draaaaven!" Draven exclaims, the arrogant executioner's tongue peeking out of his mouth in deep concentration. "Much like D, E and F, and the rest of the letters in the Draaaaven alphabet!"

Darius instantly wrestles the pen off his brother's hands and scratches a verse on the parchment with a tired sigh. "G is for Grave, where my idiotic sibling is going to send me one of these days…"

The Glorious Executioner pouts in his seat. Swain uses a ballpoint pen to share his views with his fellow Noxians.

"H is for Heritage, the spoils and great deeds of the past being carried on to the descendants of the ambitious and visionary leaders."

"I is for Intelligence. The most important and necessary gift in order to succeed in scheming and deceiving." Quips Emilia LeBlanc as she suddenly appears next to the Grand General in a plume of dark smoke.

"J is for the Jokers." Happily continues LeBlanc's evilly grinning clone as the second dark witch notes another verse in the peculiar Noxian alphabet book. "Those simpleminded, feeble fools that are not long for this world."

Katarina abruptly Shunpos between the two dark-haired women. The Sinister Blade doesn't dillydally for a moment, hastily dipping the tip of one of her signature throwing daggers in the jar with the black ink. "K is for Katarina, and if anyone ever tells you otherwise I will slit their damn throats in their sleep."

"Legacy," The Grand General raises his voice in order to be heard over the loud laughter of his fellow Noxian champions. "Tis the decorated brother of History in the path of becoming a legend."

Everyone whoever ignores him completely, and Cassiopeia grins maliciously at her little sister. The cunning turned lamia delicately dips a sharp pointy fingernail in the murky contents of the ink jar. Cassiopeia's words of wisdom bless the yellowish, smudged parchment.

"L is for Ludicrous, like Katarina's pathetic attempts to be taken seriously during most war meetings."

"M is for Motherfuck-" Katarina heatedly retorts, her ink-coated dagger stabbing the poor parchment viciously as if the stunning redhead is currently visualizing stabbing Cassiopeia's favorite Voldemort poster with each violent twist of her knife. Talon thankfully stops his adopted sibling's latest rampage and crosses over her swear word, replacing it with the miniature drawing of a bloody blade. It is the only word the once orphan assassin had ever needed in his life.

"I am starting to think that gathering all of you here to help me with the selection of the primer's words was a mistake." States a frowning Swain disappointedly. Meanwhile Beatrice, Swain's trusty avian friend stealthily hops off the clever tactician's shoulder. The wicked red-eyed raven takes advantage of Swain lecturing the Noxian champions like misbehaving children to painstakingly drag the bone pen against the rough surface of the smudged yellow parchment.

' _N is for Nest.'_ Beatrice inputs.

' _O also looks like a nest from above.'_

' _P is for pecking the people that the Master points at.'_

' _Q is stupid like Quinn, that doesn't let Valor play with me in the gardens.'_

Beatrice thinks long and hard for a moment, trying to find an appropriate word for the letter 'R'. Finally, after a second or two, the annoyed raven shrugs as Beatrice grabs the bone pen with her beak again and drags it against the now abused parchment.

' _R is for "Rip their eyes out!" That must be suitable. Master really likes it when I make our enemies cry.'_

' _S, Quinn is stupid, like I said. Stupid, stupid, stupid.'_

"And that's why you should be taking this seriously. This alphabet book will help us bring more glory to our great nation." Swain's voice drawls exasperatedly. Beatrice hastily writes another sentence and then uses her beak to crudely roll the parchment on the coffee table until only the last sentence can be seen if anyone happens to inspect it. Not even a second later, Darius grabs the incomplete alphabet book from the bird and tosses it towards the Grand General. Out of old habit and due to the latent instincts of his other more primal form resurfacing for a moment, Swain initially catches the thrown parchment in his mouth. The Grand General clears his throat awkwardly as he takes the parchment in his hands and looks at the last line curiously. Inspecting the text with a pair of creased eyebrows and confused, narrowed eyes.

"T is for Talon, like Master's deadly appendages in his handsome transformed form?" The Grand General raises an eyebrow as he eyes the visibly nervous bird that's minding its own business, whistling softly while playing poker with Emilia and her clone. "Why, thank you, my dear Beatrice. I also find your own talons most stunning and wickedly sharp." Swain then checks the time at his steampunk Hex-clock, a birthday present from robo Anivia if you need to know.

"Let's finish the alphabet book at another time my friends. We do have League matches to attend and targets to murder."

The cunning old devil motions towards the entrance of the room as he places the yellowish parchment in the safe that he keeps Beatrice's expensive bird snacks at, cleverly concealed under an oil painting of playful cats and bathing yordles. The Noxian champions groan in disappointment, but know better than to disobey their wise leader. Emilia and her clone are sad because Beatrice won their car keys in the last game of poker.

"Why did you even raise the stakes for a couple of shiny metal bits and a half-eaten bird snack!" The clone asks the real LeBlanc incredulously as the empty office's door closes.

"That's my bird!" Happily grins Swain as the smart raven hands the old general Emilia's sports car keys.

When every Noxian cutthroat and schemer finally vacates the Grand General's office, the air near a withered potted plant shimmers unnaturally, before Lux suddenly appears. The brave Demacian spy seemingly materializing out of nowhere.

"So that's what Noxians do in their free time…" Lux stares at the closed office's door incredulously, the blonde maiden's expression shaken, uncertain."

"I know, right?" Akali's mirthful voice slips from the shadows under Swain's wooden desk. "I would have thought that sudden meetings would entrail assassination plots and utterly sinister plans! I didn't sign up for this job so I could spy on a band of barbaric fools fighting over corny poem passages and alphabet letters in a wrinkled parchment."

"At least now we know that the Noxians aren't interested in invading our respective city-states." Offers Camille as the Piltovian woman swiftly rappels from the ceiling with the grace of a ballet dancer.

"So, is anyone up for a foursome?" Asks Teemo as he abruptly appears, standing naked on top of Swain's precious desk. When all of the women present just shrug the Swift Scout smiles.


	124. Snippet Collection 2

**I didn't edit these snippets that much, or even carefully for that matter. I blame the government for all the typos that can be found here. It is everybody's fault but mine.**

 **Reporter Janna scene.**

The ghostly voice of the frigid blizzard suddenly engulfs the little shiny rectangle of your brand new hex-TV. Hail and snow are the only things that appear in the white and blue background of the Freljordian tundra. Wind and snowflakes spin in the air, whipping the lens of the news crew's camera, before a frantic Janna abruptly enters the scene.

"Hello, Piltover! This is Janna Windforce, from channel Eleven! Live from the Howling Abyss of the frozen Freljord where hundreds of republican Poros are protesting against the Poro King's newest veto on imported Poro snacks and Zaunite chainsaw confiscations."

The screen briefly flicks to a prerecorded video of a fat Poro in an expensive black suit, that's wiggling its bushy moustache over an abundance of recording devices and sophisticated microphones. Cameras flash around the cuddly speaker as the Poro whimpers and pants in front of the gathered reporters.

"We won't be tolerating this unfair prejudice by our King against the hardworking people of Valoran and our Zaunite allies that have been catering to our important needs until now.' Firmly states the Minister of Fine Eating, Porobert Fluff. "The Poro King's Tyranny is rapidly approaching its end. The times are changing and Porokind and Freljord in general have to adapt to these changes or risk being left behind, and be forgotten."

"The members of the Chainsaw-wielding Union will be meeting with the Poro King later this evening to hopefully resolve the issue." Janna finishes with a beaming smile.

"Thank you, Janna." Ahri smiles politely from behind her desk as she absentmindedly tidies her papers. "Now, back to the familiar streets of Piltover and Jinx's latest antics. The residents of Wrench Street were in for a rude awaking this fine morning when they found out the bills inside their mailboxes had been covered in fresh strawberry jam, and the names on their doorbells rudely erased-"

 **A smut Katarina x Riven plot idea.**

Riven is a young new substitute teacher or gym teacher at an all-girls school. She catches snobbish Katarina smoking and sends her to the principal's office for reprimanding. Later that day Katarina finds out while gossiping with her friends that Riven had stared at an amateur adult video with her then girlfriend when she was younger, or Kat sees a picture of Riven and another girl kissing on Instagromp. So Kat decides to blackmail Riven into kissing her, give her full marks and generally get her out of trouble so she doesn't tell the principal that she is a lesbian and get her fired. A drama story revolving around power play, blackmail and frequent plot twists as the two characters slowly start falling for each other while interacting during their daily lives.

 **Xayah x Quinn Friendship/Romance scene. ** We were discussing Xayah (Or was it Quinn? I can't really remember) ships with a fellow writer then and they mentioned Quinn. I wrote this scene as a response to the suggestion.

It all starts when Quinn is relaxing with Valor in the Institute's garden. She is feeding the Demacian eagle bird snacks, but suddenly she turns around and she finds Xayah really close to her watching the hand Quinn has in the bag with the bird snacks very, very intently…

Quinn slowly pulls her hand out of the paper bag and she is amazed when Xayah's gaze follows her movement, the raven Vastayan even tilts her head to the side as she takes a mesmerized step towards Quinn, prompting a startled squawk from the proud Demacian eagle.

"Val, what's wrong?" The Demacian scout turns towards her right shoulder in order to face her beloved partner in crime, happy to find an excuse to avoid Xayah's unblinking, unnerving stare. Quinn then freezes when a strange wet sensation suddenly engulfs the hand that she is currently using to hold the last of Valor's bird snacks. Quinn slowly turns around to investigate the cause of that weird sensation only to discover Xayah silently eating the bird snacks from the scout's ungloved palm.

Valor ruffles his feathers and glares at the red-haired Vastayan while unleashing a challenging screech. Quinn just blinks, the brave Demacian ranger being rendered speechless.

 **Lux tries to be a gangsta.**

Lux watches a lot of Piltovian crime flicks and decides to be a gangsta. She wears appropriate clothes and travels to Piltover/Bigewater where she meets Vayne, an actual gangster in a bar and tries to intimidate Shauna.

"I said, put out that cigarette!" Luxanna yells as she slams a hand on the counter of the bar, only to yelp in surprise and jump back when the hit makes her lemonade spill around her glass, narrowly avoiding staining her sleeve in the process.

"Hey, I said I wanted a whiskey, not a lemonade or tap water! I demand you serve me like all the other goons in your shady watering hole!" The somewhat peeved blonde aristocrat pouts while shooting an irritated glare at the redheaded bartender. Lux waits for a few seconds to let her message sink in, and only then adds the 'Please' part, to show Sarah Fortune that she really means business.

When not even that seems effective and the bartender blatantly ignores her, the blonde light mage clears her throat loudly whilst pulling an orange water gun out of her new coat.

"This can go two ways, Fortune." The newbie Mafioso threatens whilst placing the water gun next to her half-empty drinking glass. "You've got a really nice bar counter over there, Sarah. I would hate it if someone here were to mess it up by accident and forced you to dry it with a bunch of paper towels, if you get what I am saying."

Sarah merely raises an eyebrow at the noble brat that is trying to intimidate her by wetting her already wet counter. Absentmindedly and unbeknown to Lux, the bubbly light mage is simultaneously using a small paper towel to wipe at the mess of her spilt lemonade.

"It would make you look like an idiot, too," Lux threateningly continues. " _Don't_ make me do it, you Bilgewater person"

A deafening silence hangs in the air after the hardened criminals of Fortune's seedy bar hear Luxanna's dark promise and choice of vengeance. And then somebody coughs. As if on cue everybody in the bar save for Lux's new friend, Shauna, starts laughing.

"Just give the kid, her whiskey! She's earned it, Fortune!" A jolting red-faced crook manages to gasp out while laughing across the floor and Sarah merely rolls her eyes at him and puts a shot glass in front of Lux with the faintest smile climbing over her face.

"Cheers." The wanted bounty hunter says and Luxanna beams as she hastily takes a big gulp of her drink only for her smile to instantly dissolve into a fit of loud coughing.

"Bah! What's in this stuff! Is this a prank of some sort? There's no way that people actually enjoy drinking this horrible concoction!" Luxanna exclaims while wiping her lips with the back of her hand. The noble daughter's watery sky blue orbs pinning those of an extremely smug bartender with clear accusation.

Shauna simply takes a sip from her own half-empty glass in a futile attempt to hide her soft mirthful smile.

 **Time paradox. Vayne's child story. One of the future/ time ships. A mindfuck. Draft.**

LeBlanc is actually Vayne's and Quinn's daughter. Emilia traveled back in time to make sure that her parents would hook up, so she started killing off the competition to Shauna's heart, but that caused Vayne to start hating her without knowing Emilia's real identity. Vayne and Quinn team up to kill the evil witch and so they slay evil LeBlanc while the child version of the Deceiver was present. That changes the timeline again because child LeBlanc now knows that her mothers will hunt her down so she stops killing off Vayne's possible harem candidates. But by doing so, the timeline changes again because Child Emilia's parents don't hook up and child Emilia disappears from the past, leaving future LeBlanc back in Valoran without the knowledge that what she is doing will backfire. So the story comes full circle and the time paradox continues as LeBlanc starts killing Vayne's other possible brides.

 **Yep, the joke behind this story is that I ship Vayne with so many women in my oneshot collection that future children of Vayne might start popping up one of these days to make Vayne marry their second mommy.**


	125. Prison cells and the monsters inside

**I found this one in my files while deleting some fledgling stories. Kat x Riv shipping and dark themes. Where does all this Kat shipping come from?  
**

Riven sighs as she stares irritably at the torchlight entering through her small cell's bars, the imprisoned Exile's hands crossed lazily behind her head. Riven's mind wandering elsewhere, the former Noxian commander's body posture revealing her immense exhaustion. The white-haired swordswoman grumbles as she absentmindedly sends a baleful glare at the flickering form of the torch burning a few meters away from her cell, lighting the narrow stone corridor.

"From all the cells and the damp holes in this filthy hellhole why would they actually give _me_ the one that's lit at all times?" The Noxian swordswoman grumbles under her breath, resulting in a louder snore from the other person that's lying on the mattress next to Riven. Dark maroon-colored orbs slowly follow the source of the repetitive sound until they stumble upon the sleeping figure that's pressed against the former commander's left side. Riven spots the long scarlet curtain of her cellmate's hair first, spread across the thin bed sheets like hungry red flames about to turn into a blazing inferno. Then, there are the swirling black tattoos, partially visible due to the clumped condition of the other prisoner's faded uniform. Black swirls and sharp lines decorate the unconscious body of one of the most notorious assassins in all of Runeterra.

Once Riven would have instantly darted out of the bed or pushed Katarina off the old mattress if she were told to share a bed with the notorious Sinister Blade of Noxus. Now things were different…

The Exile's maroon-colored eyes momentary linger on the abundance of band-aids and bandages that are covering Katarina's sleeping form. The bruises are still visible on the redhead's youthful face, Katarina's split lip isn't hard to spot under the flickering torchlight of the cursed torch. The sleeping assassin's brand new black eye is even more pronounced than the old scar that's running across the noble's left eye…

Riven's gaze softens, just a bit. Yep, Kat had gotten it the worse of them, after all. For when the Demacian clowns had finally managed to conquer Noxus and started rounding up its champions, old, redundant and new, the Sinister Blade had been the primary target of their 'righteous' vengeance.

Riven had done some terrible things in her life. Mugging and stealing when she had been just an orphan trying to survive on the streets of the Black City, fighting Ionian rebels that tried to defend their homeland from the Noxian invaders under Swain's orders. Killing an Ionian elder and then letting the deceased man's bodyguard take the blame for the attack… And yet, for all the terrible sins that the former Noxian commander had both witnessed and damningly committed in her relatively short life, the punishment of the sleeping Du Couteau had made her sick to her stomach.

Due to either spies or general knowledge the ruling Demacian council and its herd of cowardly sycophants knew of course of the harsh nature of Noxian ideals. The vile aristocrats and fat politicians knew that the soldiers and people of the Black City were being indoctrinated from a young age and turned into brutal warriors and merciless sadists. Sadists that hated weakness above all else. Sadists that felt morally obligated to punish the ones below themselves, those that they perceived as inferior.

Katarina didn't have many friends as it was, either due to the assassin's brash and often haughty behavior, or the redhead's cruelty and the weight of her family name. People wanted to be in the good graces of the Du Couteau family, but steered away from them if they were given the choice.

And so the Demacians had finally decided to take their revenge on the Sinister Blade for all the lives that she had taken from them, and the Black City's former residents would be their jury and executioners…

The self-righteous bastards had rounded up most of Noxus' champions and military personnel and dumped them in a colossal underground prison they called 'The Animal Cage', then a restrictive rune had been placed in the last surviving member of the Du Couteau. A terrible curse that drained the assassin's stamina and strength and considerably dulled her impressive reflexes. Poor Kat was then left to fend for herself in the pit of the Noxian vipers.

The weeks that had followed had been a living hell for the fallen, jade-eyed aristocrat with the rebellious spirit. Katarina's screams echoed throughout the night, her once proud form lying battered and broken in a pool of her own blood. Katarina wasn't some fragile weak-minded woman that was a stranger to pain like the Demacian nobles of course, and yet Riven would occasionally listen to her sob faintly into the night.

The beatings continued, the sobbing only got louder. Katarina's injuries didn't even have the time to heal anymore with all the new ones being administered on her body on a daily basis. Riven had found out later on that the redheaded assassin had been 'accidentally' given a cell with a faulty lock, and that Kat couldn't even get a respite when the majority of the other inmates were asleep during the night. The albino swordswoman had felt disgust flooding her being at the magnitude of the Demacians' cruelty. This punishment was too much, even for someone that the albino despised.

Riven had decided to pay a visit to her old acquaintance, and at times military academy rival, the next night to confirm the rumors flying about the cruel assassin's predicament. Upon entering Katarina's 'private quarters' Riven had almost collided with a company of laughing inmates leaving Kat's cell. The prisoners blatantly ignoring her as if a stranger visiting the Sinister Blade's personal cell wasn't at all unexpected or strange.

What the pale Exile had witnessed upon entering the dimly lit cell had been a thoroughly beaten and bruised Katarina Du Couteau trying to pathetically crawl back to her trashed and torn mattress. The Sinister Blade's body was stark naked and glistering with blood and sweat, her clothes discarded, torn rags on the floor beside her. Riven could see fresh bruises shaped like hands littering the former assassin's weak shaking body. Yet, the redhead's eyes hadn't lost all of their immense fierceness.

"The fuck are you looking at?" Katarina had muttered in a weak tired voice while sending the silent swordswoman her signature death glare. With bruises coiling like red ropes around her glinting, abused throat and half-dried tears still marring her dirty and wet face.

"A bitch," Riven had simply replied with a voice both commanding and resolute. "My bitch, and that's why you will be sleeping in my cell from now on, assassin." The albino swordswoman continues as she swiftly crosses the distance between the two and lifts the battered form of Kat in her arms, raising the fallen Noxian heiress away from the cold filthy ground.

Katarina growls at her, or perhaps she just hisses in pain, yet the Sinister Blade doesn't have the strength to punch Riven in the mouth, and so she merely glares daggers at the stoic white-haired swordswoman. Riven ignores her.

"Let's head for the showers and get you some food from the mess hall first, though," The pale former soldier mutters under her breath as she carries Katarina towards the shower room, eliciting a curious blink from the emaciated nude redhead. Riven's eyes remain glued to the torchlit corridor, staring at the frowning inmates ahead. The swordswoman raises her chin challengingly and the small barricade of prisoners grudgingly part with sounds of anger and disgust, some of them pointedly spiting towards the ground.

"You really stink and I strongly dislike overly-thin women." The Exile softly mumbles. But Kat is already asleep in the swordswoman's arms, having passed out due to the redhead's immense relief when the other inmates actually do back down at Riven's challenge, refraining from approaching her. Refraining from hurting her, at least for now.

It had been a long time since the fallen assassin had experienced physical touch that wasn't painful or fueled by hate and lust. Maybe that's why Katarina moves closer to the warmth of Riven's chest in her sleep. Maybe that's why Riven doesn't say a word and allows it, even if the former soldier's pale cheeks do briefly color.


	126. MEAT

**Tags: Humor? Songfiction with 4 lines of lyrics and loads of other text? Stereotypes? I had the idea for the story since the cooking skins came out. That and a very vivid and recurring daydream of Sashimi Akali inviting Nami to the openings of her new restaurant. Serial killer style.  
**

There is a relatively small, and often overlooked building nestled in the heart of the bustling big city. A hunched and humble tombstone of an office building with only two derelict floors built to it and dusty windows that are overlooking much taller, old concrete walls and dark smelly alleyways. The interior of the broke and widely unknown recording studio that is housed inside said building is not in a better condition than the outside. A variety of ancient, once really popular, but now completely forgotten album covers and faded concert posters are decorating the walls of studio's untidy and drafty rooms. The phones of the studio are silent as if in deep slumber, the welcoming mat by the door is scroungy and depressing in appearance. The scratched business sign just outside of the rickety door that's spelling _'Killa Rat Records'_ and sports the caricature of a roaring rodent is missing more than a few of its plain black letters.

Yet, despite all those blatant signs of abandonment and decline there were still two souls arguing inside the walls of the crumbling old building.

"Lucian! Lucian, ma man! 50Gold! Come on, stop to think about this fer a second! This gig might be for us the opportunity of a lifetime!"

The human-sized rodent and proud owner of the Killa Rat recording company is visibly sweating as it positions its fat body in front of the exit, lest Twitch's golden goose decides to seek a more respectful establishment to record his new album.

"No way, man." The frowning dark-skinned rapper shakes his head furiously at Twitch. "I'm not doing this. Nuh-uh! No way am I singing a dumb song for a cringy steak advertisement."

"Lucian…" Heatedly replies Twitch in a lecturing tone of voice. "Come on, man. You think that all the big playahs in the music industry would be up there making millions of gold coins every day and snorting Zyra's earwax if they didn't do these things when they first started? You think Teeminem didn't bow his head once to climb up to tha top? You think that great artists like Lil Vayne, 2Zac, Docta Kennan, Mundona and OPianna started selling millions of concert tickets without starring in humiliating music clips and advertising acne cream, deodorants and dairy products?"

Lucian's frown remains, but the rapper shakes his head right and left. And Twitch knows that he has managed to change the upcoming artist's mind when the dark-skinned man grudgingly reexamines the advertisement's script and its god-awful lyrics.

"Fine, I will do it. Just this once, but never again, ya hear?" Lucian concedes after a while. Twitch offers him his biggest and most toothy grin. The scene slowly fades out.

 ***The music video starts***

Lucian is seating on a luxurious leather armchair counting fake diamonds and golden coins as Nidalee and Lux, both in revealing white lingerie are having a slow-motion pillow fight. Feathers and fluff fly about lethargically as the camera lens zooms in, first to Lucian's serious face and his moving lips, then at the golden chains that are hanging around the rapper's neck, before the camera lens finally shifts back to the two laughing women hitting each other with a pair of torn pillowcases.

"I don't know what you heard about meat"

The camera moves suggestively and pauses at a close-up of Lux's and Nidalee's thighs at the word 'meat'.

"But Olaf's steak is too tasty not to eat."

Katarina, dressed in a sexy black bikini walks in the scene with a covered silver platter held in her hands. The stunning redhead proceeds to hold the platter in front of Lucian and dramatically remove the lid. The camera zooms in on the grilled steak that's set on the platter. Lucian exaggeratedly leans down and breathes in, the rapper closes his eyes as if enjoying the scent of his presented dinner.

"No Cow disease, no freaky stuff, just a juicy dream."

The upcoming rapper patiently waits as Nidalee cuts the steak with a silver knife and fork. Lux teasingly feeds a small piece of meat to Lucian. We get a very brief shot of Katarina biting at her bottom lip seductively while closing her eyes and sprinkling her bikini-clad breasts with the saltshaker for some odd reason.

"Now go to Olaf's butchery and get yo motherfucking meal!"

The rapper growls. Lucian grins confidently as if he is on cloud nine. Meanwhile Lux, Nidalee and Katarina start dancing close to each other, occasionally rubbing their bodies together by accident. When the camera moves away from him Lucian finds the chance to discreetly turn his head around and spits his morsel behind the leather armchair. The fucking steak tastes like cotton and is chewy like a car tire.

Just out of sight and inside the recording room Twitch is rubbing his hands in pure glee, confident in the success of the meat advertisement.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own 5Ocents song Pimp.**


	127. Vac28 Labs and espionage

**AKA something longer (3k words). Tags: Humor**

"Thank you for agreeing to be my lab assistant for these experiments, Miss Luxanna." The voice of a very preoccupied Heimerdinger rises above the turmoil of a hundred bubbling containers and smoking contraptions of every kind.

"It is my honor, Heimy. After all, we both know that very few people inside the Institute's walls share our passion for science." Lux replies without pausing in her stirring of a half-empty testing tube. The blonde Demacian's simple white lab coat giving the cheerful young woman an air of seriousness that terribly conflicted with the playful attitude of goodhearted goofiness that Lux usually exhibited.

"Once again you are correct, Miss Crownguard. Remind me to research your family tree after today's experiment has been concluded. With the bright mind you so undoubtedly possess you just might be of Piltovian descent, or more realistically speaking a half-Piltovian, my dear Luxanna."

Lux simply smiles at the Revered Inventor's rare praise, flipping switches and turning on more clanking machines as she moves towards a small table near the center of Heimerdinger's personal laboratory.

"Speaking of descents, Heimer.. shouldn't these values be decreasing instead of multiplying exponentially like so?" Lux mutters thoughtfully as she skims through a long paper ribbon of printed numbers ceaselessly escaping from the side of a softly humming hex-tech printing machine. "I thought that today's experiment was the creation of a special pheromone that repels bullies. With numbers like these, however, the resulting concoction might as well attract the violent delinquents instead."

Heimerdinger smiles at his clever colleague widely, even though the Revered Inventor knows that Lux won't be able to tell behind all the hair and fur covering his fuzzy face. "Yes, yes, I know that. You are entirely correct, indeed! The initial purpose of the experiment was to create a repelling agent, but yesterday's test proved that our formula was wrong! And thus, we need to start from the very beginning and create attraction before we discover a way to turn it into repulsion and drive away the bullies!"

Luxanna nods her head, minutely pausing to fix the reading glasses that have somehow appeared at the bridge of her nose a few crumbling sentences ago. The intelligent young light mage then walks next to Heimerdinger with the printed document still in her hand.

"I am forced to agree with this course of action, Heimy. Although I _would_ suggest a slight decrease in the (insert plausible scientific mumbo-jumbo) We want to attract the bullies, not mesmerize them-"

The ear-piercing screech of bending metal rudely interrupts the blonde Demacian's musings as the hollow steel box of a hanging air duct unceremoniously falls on top of a nearby table. The two scientists blink owlishly at the collapsed piece of metal, two pairs of eyebrows furrowing in thought when a pained moan abruptly escapes from the great rectangular steel frame of the duct.

"F-fuck!" The sentient air duct groans in pain once more, the sudden appearance of five feminine fingers clutching at the edge of said air duct also adding to the two dumfounded scientists' confusion.

"Argh, my head! My fucking head! This is the last time I take orders from freaking Swain!" Katarina curses and bickers as the Sinister Blade of Noxus crawls on all fours out of the severed air duct's frame. "Why can't the dumb bird-fucker send Talon instead? Sion's Axe, even my snake of a sister is more suitable for crawling inside narrow spaces and dark holes than I am!"

Katarina momentary closes her eyes once more as she uses one palm to nurse her stinging temple. "Fuuuuck, my head, my poor, fucking heaaa-" Twin emerald orbs then snap open, and the bickering redheaded assassin finally takes note of the room's other two occupants. "-d?" The Sinister Blade finishes lamely. Katarina's previously wet angry orbs instantly widen in sudden realization of her being discovered.

"Ehm... Happy Snowdown?" The fiery redheaded assassin tries uncertainly as she attempts to morph her usually scowling facial features into a poor imitation of an innocent jolly expression.

Heimerdinger pauses, takes out his glasses and then starts wiping them with sudden zeal. The tense moments tick by as the fragile fake smile worn on Katarina's anxious visage slowly starts crumbling. Luxanna's eyes are still rapidly darting between the redheaded Noxian assassin in front of her and the gaping hole of the ruined air duct above them.

"Happy Snowdown!" Katarina repeats again while taking advantage of the Revered Inventor being occupied with cleaning his glasses to jump off the broken table and start slowly inching towards the lab's door.

"Happy Snowdown, Katarina." Absentmindedly replies Lux as Heimerdinger puts his glasses back on at last. The yellow yordle scientist's eyes narrowing threateningly when Katarina doesn't magically disappear like the occasional speck of dust smudged against his glass lenses. Then...

"There is an intruder!" Heimerdinger bellows while pointing at a sweatdroping Katarina Du Couteau. Lux simply nods her head in acknowledgement, although admittedly, the yordle scientist's cry serves to help the blonde mage finally snap out of her shock induced daze.

"Intruder! Intruders! Spies! Company espionage! Cheap Zaunite cable hexa-vision!" Heimerdinger exclaims in a paroxysm of indignation while activating the lab's automatic defenses. Katarina takes that as her cue to make a run for the exit, throwing all subtleties aside. Mere seconds later the lab's rotating laser guns unleash a devastating barrage of cataclysmic proportions, disintegrating delicate machinery and puncturing the lab's reinforced steel walls alike. The Sinister Blade has to Shunpo from table to table like mad just so she doesn't suffer the same fate as Heimerdinger's ruined equipment.

"Has she built full cooldown reduction?" Lux voices amidst the ensuing chaos of the redhead assassin frantically teleporting around the room and diving behind heavy counters. The petite light mage being truly intrigued by the answer to her question as she calmly observes Katarina desperately running for her life, rolling and lunging around the lab like a spooked cat that has also caught fire.

"That wouldn't explain Miss Du Couteau's impressive movement speed burst." Heimerdinger observes, seemingly unconcerned by the rampant laser turrets annihilating the very research they were created to safeguard in the first place.

"A new mastery, then?" Lux deduces as Katarina combat rolls underneath a low metal table near the exit, only to instantly Shunpo away with a startled scream when a net of scorching hot red laser beams abruptly materializes in front of the lab's entrance, barring the assassin's way to freedom.

"A very unbalanced mastery that needs to be nerfed ASAP." Heimerdinger agrees with an annoyed huff. Lux and the Revered Inventor nonchalantly examine Katarina as the frustrated spy desperately performs parkour feats that woud make Talon proud.

"Hey, Heimer?" Lux draws the short, furry man's attention after a while when the laser turrets still haven't managed to terminate the dexterous Noxian spy, in contrast with terminating most of the lab's expensive equipment, of course. Katarina's panting and the redhead's breathless and angry groans echoing loudly in the background.

"Hmm?"

Some complicated sorting machinery abruptly explodes scattering glass canisters across the room. Mere seconds later the glass shards are set alight.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Two sugars and a spoonful of honey, please." The Revered Inventor replies, prompting a nod from his taller blonde-haired colleague. Lux then walks away and starts mixing chemicals in a long testing tube. Where else did you think that scientists kept their sugar?

 **/**

"T- _*huff*_ That's enough _*Huff*_ f-fooling around!" Katarina heatedly growls against Luxanna's ear with a throwing knife pressed against the light mage's throat and an abundance of sweat beads slipping down the redheaded assassin's purplish-red cheeks.

"You dirty immoral Noxian!" Heimerdinger quickly exclaims in sheer outrage at his beloved lab assistant being threatened in front of his eyes. "Resolving in taking a hostage when things don't go your way! Why, if I was twenty -no! Ten years younger I would have-"

"Zip your mouth, Pops!" Katarina snarls at the angry short yordle. "Now give me the important science stuff, or blondie here gets it!"

"How dare you! Y-you.. you uncivilized primordial moniker of a human being! You vile negative sum in Anniestein's beautiful equations!"

Luxanna whimpers when the sharp edge of the assassin's throwing knife is pressed even tighter against her vulnerable neck. Heimerdinger visibly panics.

"Fine! Fine, you monstrous, evil being!" The big-headed yordle whines as Heimerdinger hastily approaches a locked hex-tech vault. The Revered Inventor then shoves his entire head into a hair-do recognition system and the sealed vault opens. Katarina's eyes instantly light up with greed and smug satisfaction. She intently watches the furry scientist carefully as the liliputian researcher pulls the first item out of the humongous safe.

"There, here's the formula for Jayce's tooth whitener," Heimerdinger sobs as he dumps a stack of papers into a shopping cart nearby. "Now brutish Noxian scum will have our hero's award-winning smile!" *Sniff* *Sniff*

"...What?" Katarina slowly mutters perplexed.

"And here's Orianna's poetry written in 01 code!" The lilliputian scientist continues as he dumps some more useless notes on top of the first overflowing pile of papers. "Vi's lucky pink sock, Caitlyn's second top hat that also doubles as a Styrofoam cup holder.. Ezreal's custom-made map shredder..." More and more seemingly everyday eccentricities and mundane things are dumped inside the shopping cart one after another. "Take all of them you heinous bandit!"

"Wait, that's it?" Seethingly growls Katarina when Heimerdinger stops stacking the shopping cart high with old items and useless junk. The fiery assassin's temper quickly flaring at full force once more. "This is a classified lab that is testing technology from all over Piltover! Where are the hex-tech rifles? The power armors? The 3-ton pulse bombs?! Where are the lightsabers and the stuff that's actually _useful_ for killing?!" Hisses the Du Couteau noble angrily.

"In Jinx's wish list?" Wonders Lux unconcerned.

"Underneath Ziggs' Snowdown tree, or under his pillow, or hidden inside his freezer?" Hazards a guess, Heimerdinger.

"Arghh! Fuckin-" Screams Katarina as she starts dragging her blonde hostage towards the door. "You're telling me that I nearly died for the premium toothpaste of a self-important douchebag and the philosophical musings of a dumb robot?!"

"Vi's lucky sock too," Heimerdinger helpfully reminds the seething assassin. "Oh! And Ezreal's shredder, Caitlyn's hat, Camille's ballet shoes that she can't wear anymore, Blitzcrank's favorite swimsuit-"

"Un-fucking-believable!" Dejectedly mutters the Sinister Blade as she stops a few steps away from the scarlet net of deadly laser beams that are barring the door. "Anyway, deactivate the lasers in front of the exit, and the other traps you have no doubt left laying around, or Luxy here will lose the ability to laugh. Permanently!"

"H-Heimer, please do whatever she wants!" Luxanna croaks with Katarina's sharp throwing knife still pressed against her soft throat.

But the Revered Inventor seems to hesitate with his finger hovering undecidedly above a giant green button. (Since red buttons are too cliché and green needs its chance to show what it is made of. The green color is made by mixing yellow and blue paint if you were wondering, by the way.)

"So, what you are telling me is that Miss Luxanna won't be able to use her.. er.. unique laughing frequency as a means to methodically aggravate and simultaneously mentally torture her very unfortunate lane opponents?" The short furry man ponders aloud while rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Heimer!" Lux squeals, eliciting a pained twitch from both the Revered Inventor and the redheaded assassin behind her back that's presently holding her at knifepoint.

"I was simply attempting to negotiate the terms of your release, my dear child." Heimerdinger states as he deactivates the scarlet laser net that's preventing Katarina's escape. The pint-sized scientist purposefully averting his eyes from those of his visibly frustrated blonde-haired lab assistant.

"Miss Du Couteau has already proven how despicable of an individual she is by taking you for a hostage, Lux. There is no telling what deprived and sick sexual acts she will force upon you after you two step outside of the safety of this here chamber."

"Hey! I am not a pervert, you rat!" Katarina snarls hotly against Lux's ear as she tightens her hold on the stuttering and blushing young girl.

"Mhmm, that's why you can't keep your hands away from Lux, even though we _are_ currently in the middle of an important conversation right now..." The Revered Inventor has the audacity to wink his bushy eyebrows suggestively at the fearsome Noxian spy. Luxanna's initially faint blush rapidly intensifying as the nervous Lady of Luminosity begins shifting awkwardly inside Katarina's aggressive embrace.

"I can't keep my hands off the stupid goody-two-shoes because she is my hostage, you damn idiot!" Katarina exclaims shrilly as the now frothing Noxian aristocrat finally manages to clear the lab's door and step one foot outside.

"Sure, sure. I am totally buying that." Heimer then turns to stare at Lux with solemn and defeated, very pitiable eyes. "Just stay strong my beloved brilliant colleague! Be brave and stay hopeful of someday escaping Miss Katarina's abhorrent sex dungeon. No matter how many years you will be locked in there in the complete mercy of this vile woman."

Having ascended into a higher plane of unadulterated rage and being too infuriated and exasperated to still be in a position to utter anything other than low animalistic snarls, the Sinister Blade of Noxus opts to just drag Lux away from the lab and Heimerdinger. Completely ignoring the young light mage's cries for help and Luxanna's frantic pleas to have mercy on her and to 'not make her pregnant'…

' _Typical Demacians,'_ Katarina thinks darkly inside her pounding head _'Their cowardly nobles are so busy preaching about righteousness and just causes that they don't even explain to their own offsprings about the wounds and the daggers!'_

"Heimy! Heimy! Please, help me! I don't want to end up in Katarina's terrible sex dungeon! I don't want to have Katarina's babies!" Desperately yells in sheer terror the frightened young Crownguard as Lux helplessly outstretches her arms towards the small fuzzy form of Piltover's greatest living scientist. Luxanna's hands grasping desperately for the furry man's arms as if Heimerdinger was Lux's long-lost papa.

"Just shut up and move! And for fuck's sake stop talking about my sex dungeon!" Growls Katarina under her breath, the redheaded assassin being so focused in dragging her screaming hostage towards the Noxian wing that she doesn't notice the wetness of Heimerdinger's bully-attracting formula drenching the back of her leather jacket. The potent chemicals having previously drenched the Noxian spy's clothes as Katarina was attempting to escape the onslaught of laser beams being fired her way.

"Wait! So the sex dungeon actually exists!? Heimer! Heimer, I am not ready to become a mom yet. Heimy, please save me!"

 **/**

Inside the Institute's busy Mess Hall three yordle champions are peacefully eating their supper.

"Hey, could you pass me the salt?" One of the short furry creatures murmurs. Another yordle answers him with a nod and the saltshaker is pushed forward across the table. A feminine scared scream can faintly be heard ringing from the adjacent corridor. Every single champion present merely ignores it.

"Thanks, Tris." Teemo is in the process of sprinkling salt and pepper over his stew when the Swift Scout suddenly freezes and sniffs at the air confusedly. "Hey, can you guys smell that?"

"Smell what?" Rumble's whiney voice questions suspiciously. "Did you just pass gas or something, man?" But before Teemo can mouth his reply Tristana's nostrils are also flaring rapidly.

"I think I can smell it, too." The yordle gunner quips. Teemo is already pushing his bowl away, reaching for something underneath the table.

"Well, what is it?" Rumble sounds uncertain, especially when he notices Teemo producing a spiked baseball bat from under the white tablecloth.

"I don't know what it is," Tristana lowly states as she slowly puts on a black ski mask. "But it is making me angry."

Rumble takes a good look at his two friends standing up and proceeds to hide his face inside his palms, before releasing a long and tired sigh. "I will go get the acid."


	128. Snippet Collection 3

Don't dance when the buffs spawn.

It was another perfect day in the Summoner Rift. The grass was green and soft under the feet of the marching blue team, little woodland creatures and chirping birds roamed the familiar paths leading to the various monster camps in the great magical forest. The cool shades of the tall trees in the Rift's jungle, ancient observers to numerous scuffles and as many defeats, offering the fellowship of champions a pleasant respite from the caress of the omnipotent golden sun that shone brightly high in the morning sky.

The whole feeling that the Rift was currently giving off to the five companions was one of peaceful serenity and reassurance. The champions paused before the spawning area where the ground would soon give birth to the scarlet Red buff. Quietly basking in the beauty of nature that was surrounding them, a few of them started gossiping amongst themselves and sharing jokes, some others deciding to express their immense joy by dancing.

*Pop*

Suddenly a smoke round is shot from a nearby bush, engulfing the blue team in a thick shroud of smoke.

"The enemy team is invading!" Coughs Master Yi, seconds before the enemy Teemo comes out of stealth right next to him and shoots a blinding dart at the unprepared Ionian swordsman.

Everything goes black for a few seconds. Master Yi can hear death cries and the deafening ringing of gunshots, the strangely musical sound of Flash spells being expended and the Rift's announcer bellowing and yelling in triumph. The last thing that the Ionian champion perceives when the black veil that's shrouding his vision abruptly vanishes are the twin smoking barrels of Graves' shotgun being pointed at his head, and the smug look plastered on the outlaw's face.

Then everything goes dark once again. The pleasant chirping of the birds ceases as the match officially begins.

* * *

Foul Magics

"Curse you, Night Hunter! Oh, curse you and your wretched kin!" Croaks the collapsed dark witch as she raises an accusing finger to point at the stoic form of the vampire vigilante that's standing defiantly in the midst of the villainous hag's burning hideout. Vayne merely snarls at her foe as she loads another silver-tipped crossbow bolt in her wristbow, the flickering flames of the blazing inferno reflecting eerily against the smooth surface of Shauna's crimson sunglasses.

There is a long bleeding scratch that's leaking sanguine life on the dark brooding huntress' right cheek, one that is closing and patching itself up rapidly right before the knelt Vastayan witch's eyes.

With cold finality Shauna lets the crossbow bolt plunge into the frail old woman's chest. The witch just stares at the Night Hunter, glaring at her hatefully as thick ribbons of black blood suddenly start trickling down the hag's chin, originating from the dying hag's mouth.

"C-curse you!" The seething witch mutters one last time with her last breath. Vayne simply observes the light leaving the murderess' eyes and her body ceasing all movement. Shauna then turns around and walks out of the Vastayan hag's burning home, allowing the hungry tongues of the fire to devour the wretched woman's body.

 **0000**

 _*Knock* *Knock*_

"Yaaawn. Wait a second." Soraka groans sleepily while getting up from the bed and fastening her housecoat around her form. Now where were her slippers?

 _*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*_

"I am coming! Just give me a second!" The Starchild yells at her unknown guest as the celestial healer finally spots her Poro-themed slippers and places her purple feet inside them. Temporary safe from the biting cold wood underneath her feet, the horned purple support sleepily reaches her door and unlocks it.

The hooded silhouette that appears before the perplexed healer doesn't offer any explanation for the nightly visit. Soraka abruptly finds herself stepping back to avoid colliding with Vayne's body when the Night Hunter enters her apartment without a word and promptly proceeds to close the door behind her.

"Shauna? What are you doing here so late? Did you get injured in your last hunt?" Soraka instantly recognizes the glint of Vayne's signature eyewear peeking out from inside the darkness of the markswoman's plain black hood. The Starchild approaches her silent visitor making to touch Vayne's body to check for injures and open wounds, only for the Night Hunter to shake her head and take a step back avoiding physical contact.

Soraka only huffs in response. "We've been here before, Vayne. I can't heal your wounds if I don't know the extent of your injuries."

"I-it… they… aren't exactly wounds…" Any annoyance or trace of sleep fogging the healer's thoughts instantly disappears when Soraka hears Vayne's confession. Soraka has never heard Shauna speak with such a degree of reluctance and uncertainty coloring her voice before. Not even when the Night Hunter is dying and Shauna's life is hanging by a twine.

' _If something has shaken up Vayne so much, then it must be serious,_ ' Soraka silently concludes in her head.

"Tell me what ails you, child." The voice of the celestial healer is soft and unbelievably gentle. Shauna minutely feels anger for Soraka treating her like a child. It's been two lifetimes since someone addressed her like the Starchild just did. It's been almost twenty years since Shauna was a foolish, naïve, _and weak_ child.

Yet, the Demacian vampire's ire is quickly put aside when the Night Hunter remembers the reason for her sudden nightly visit.

With much reluctance and the heavy feeling of hopelessness weighing down her heart, Shauna's pale fingers coil around the fabric of her black hood. She then pulls it down in one resolute motion.

"Wha-?" The puzzled Starchild mumbles at a loss for words. With drunken footsteps and silent wonder in her kind golden eyes Soraka moves closer to Vayne to examine the Night Hunter's altered appearance.

"Are those..?" The healer slowly asks. Vayne tensely nods her head.

"They are." The brooding Demacian huntress lowly confirms, instinctively flinching when Soraka experimentally places a finger against one of Vayne's soft cat ears. "So can you please help me get rid of them?"

* * *

Yuri love triangle pairing test.

Another bizarre figure decides to unceremoniously walk into the Institute's crowded Mess Hall, the champion's faint silhouette quickly dissolving into a sea of variant forms and peculiar faces that are ranging from handsome to ugly, and then downright alien and plain weird. Somewhere inside the magnificent building that's filled with the ruckus of jovial voices and the clattering of descending silverware the Ice Witch frowns over her breakfast.

And yet, even though Lissandra is currently silently glaring at her sunny-side up eggs and her chin is somewhat clenched, the delicious food set before the intelligent spell caster has nothing to do with the female Freljordian's present irritation.

Lissandra's faction hadn't lost some important fight so far, her people were still oblivious to the dark machinations of their seemingly fair and angelic leader. That moronic child, Ashe, had strained her foot while taking a walk outside. All in all, it had been quite an uneventful day so far, if one could even say such a thing for days spent in the confines of the Institute of War, that is.

Well, the day _had_ been uneventful and almost pleasant, until the Sheriff's brutish menace of a partner had chosen to take a seat opposite to the scheming Ice Witch… for the fifth time in five days if Lissandra remembered correctly.

"Hey, Liss! How's your day so far?" The annoying pink-haired enforcer attempts to strike a conversation with the frigid Freljordian mage once again and the Ice Witch's frown darkens.

"Rather pleasant, until you decided to start pestering me." The cunning tribe leader replies instantly, wiping away Vi's friendly smile.

"Oh.." The pinkette woman titters as she rubs the back of her head in an obviously nervous manner. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Am I bothering you again?"

"I thought that would be obvious." The Iceborn witch states as she mercilessly cuts into the food on her plate while simultaneously splitting Vi's heart in half with relative ease.

"I-I see." The pinkette enforcer laughs nervously once more as she shifts uncomfortably in her chair. "Did you give what I asked you a few days ago any thought?" Vi dares to ask, her stunning sky blue orbs focusing anywhere but the dangerous woman's cold stare in front of her.

"Are you perhaps referring to your unexpected suggestion of us.. dating?" The Ice Witch doesn't even attempt to lower her voice whilst making her query. The clear words of the ancient tribe leader instantly eliciting excited murmurs from the tables around the two champions, and simultaneously drawing an embarrassed blush from the red-faced pinkette Enforcer.

"…Yes, that one. So did you give my proposal some though?" The blushing pinkette murmurs while examining the tablecloth clenched between her suddenly sweaty palms. But Lissandra merely scoffs at Vi's murmured question.

"As if I would do such a thing." The Freljordian princess irritably replies causing Vi to flinch while cringing at the wrinkled tablecloth that she can't take her eyes off at the moment.

"I have more important things to occupy my mind, Enforcer than babysitting a rambunctious lovestruck child almost half my age. I've got plans to set in motion, rivals and rising kingdoms to destroy. I'm sure that you can understand that."

"Yeah, yeah… I guess you are right." Vi slowly mutters, the rowdy pink curtain of the policewoman's hair hiding the enforcer's pained eyes from the gaze of the stern Ice Witch. "I mean, how could someone like me, be blessed enough to win the heart of a woman like you, right?" Vi tries to smile with her fists still clenched around the wrinkled tablecloth.

"My point exactly." Lissandra nods towards the heartbroken Piltovian, the Iceborn's fork digging into the yolk of her sole intact egg. "We are just incompatible, like Diana and Leona, Sona and Vayne, Lux and that stoic Riven girl."

Lissandra then pauses as she raises a finger towards the ceiling in sudden revelation.

"Like your dear Sheriff and some filthy street urchin like Talon and Ekko! Some things are just not meant to b-"

Lissandra stops speaking when Vi abruptly storms away from the Mess Hall in tears. The Ice Witch tilts her head in confusion, and then turns towards the seemingly frozen brunette that's staring with wide shocked eyes at the nearby wall. Caitlyn's empty food tray unwittingly slips from her fingers.

"Did I perhaps say something that I shouldn't have said?" Lissandra asks Caitlyn with genuine curiosity coloring her usual cold tone, only for the shaken brunette Sheriff to blatantly ignore her as Caitlyn instantly runs after Vi. With apparent desperation guiding the Sheriff's actions, and a beet red face earning the police officer curious looks from the startled clusters of champions enjoying their food inside the Mess Hall, Caitlyn races for the grand chamber's entrance. All thoughts of dignity, poise and proper manners currently absent from the intelligent Sheriff's head, Vi's heartbroken and tearstained face crushing Caitlyn's own heart like a two ton weight.

"Piltovians…" Lissandra mutters after a few seconds of her staring dumbstruck at the Mess Hall's open doors, and then the devilish Ice Witch sprinkles a bit more ice on top of her frozen egg yolk before eating it.


	129. -o00O8-8

**Tags: Suspence, intrigue! Wing fluttering!**

* * *

 ***Clink *Clink**

The little iron bell by the door chimes gently as another potential customer leisurely enters the small convenience store. Light footsteps thudding inside the dense forest of stretching aisles. Quinn minutely pauses, spares a quick glance at the tall metal selves that are filled with all kinds of junk food, overprized cleaning supplies and fizzy beverages, and then returns back to reading her magazine.

If only the brunette cashier had taken the time to inspect her surroundings a little closer she might have noticed the sticky golden stains smeared all over the freshly moped floor. If Quinn hadn't been so absorbed daydreaming about finishing her shift for the day and leaving that horrid, dull place behind, she might have paid more attention to the faint buzzing noise coming from behind the condiments' aisle.

Quinn, however was currently too busy imagining of that perfect, blessed moment when her coworker Illaoi would gruffly take her place behind the counter and grunt to her a reluctant dismissal. And so, the soft buzzing and the noise of clinking glass failed to register in the miffed cashier's mind as she silently waited for the arrival of her dark-skinned savior.

Thankfully enough, though, for all of Quinn's fatigued inattentiveness and the young cashier's wandering thoughts, the bored brunette woman couldn't possibly miss the startling sound of breaking glass when the loud noise emanated from the other side of a heavy steel shelf full of canned goods and preserved fruits.

"Is everything alright back there?" The exasperated clerk groans as she places her magazine on top of the counter and stands up to inspect the source of the loud disturbance. Quinn moves swiftly, circling the aisle purposefully. The cashier's vigilant amber eyes darting quickly across the silent product displays and the colorful wrappers set neatly on top of the heavy steel shelves. If the clumsy customer decides to make a run for it and actually manages to escape from the poor brunette, Quinn's strict boss is going to demand that the clerk pays for whatever shit the customer broke.

"Hey, I asked you a question-"

The words die in the kind woman's tongue. Quinn just blinks owlishly at the seemingly deserted aisle, eyeing the gold-tinged glass shards on the floor, bemusedly.

"Unbelievable!" The now peeved brunette cries out as she frowns agitatedly at the smeared sticky glass near her shoes. Because, apparently, her illusive customer hadn't only dropped a big jar of honey on the floor and made a mess that Quinn would have to clean up later, but the uncaring offender had then proceeded to walk all over it! Spreading the sticky substance among the dusty forest of shelves, smearing the honey between the aisles with their little clumsy footsteps! _Their surprisingly small and uncoordinated footsteps_ , Quinn realizes as a bit of the young cashier's anger slowly gives way to grudging resignation.

It wasn't the first time that a damn rascal had been dared by their friends to steal something from the rundown convenience store at end of the block, or just to annoy Quinn for that matter.

"Damn brats." The irritated female clerk mutters while pinching the bridge of her nose in a show of immense frustration. Illaoi would be there soon, and Quinn will now have to clean up the mess on the floor, before the more bulkier woman would accept to relieve Quinn from her post and be tortured in her place.

With a final tired sigh and sheer exhaustion worn on her face, Quinn turns around to find a paper towel, an old mop and a big bucket of water.

 ***Thud***

A somewhat muffled sound coming from the Ice-cream and Popsicle Aisle a few selves away from her suddenly makes Quinn jump up in fright and draw her arms against her aching ribcage.

 ***Thud***

The dull echo of a soft object colliding against sturdy glass sounds again. The young clerk's expression instantly morphs from fear and uncertainty into a blank look, before being quickly replaced by righteous and _flaring_ anger!

 _Was that the next task of the dare?_ The enraged brunette woman thinks as she storms towards the popsicles' aisle. The dull, repetitive sound becomes louder as Quinn takes a sharp left on the dry candy aisle and abruptly comes face to butt with a very sharp-looking stinger.

 ***Thud***

Beemo mindlessly slams his small furry body against the transparent barrier that's separating him from the cold fruit-flavored delights. The Bee-dles furry visage is smeared with fresh honey, his eyes locked on his prize.

 ***Thud***

The short, black and yellow themed creature attempts to slide the glass door open with his face for the fourth time.

 ***Thud***

Quinn simply stares at Beemo, opens her mouth to speak, but then snaps it shut with a resigned expression. The clerk takes a deep break, before shaking her head tiredly and heading back to her counter with an exhausted slouch.

"I am not getting paid enough to deal with this." Quinn sighs.

 ***Thud***

Meanwhile Beemo mindlessly rubs his furry cheek against the reflection of a strawberry popsicle and buzzes in anticipation stubbornly.


	130. A picturesque Zaunite family

"Grudpa! Grudpa, come tell us a storey!" The little purple-skinned boy splutters persistently, young Mundo's extruding, oversized tongue unwittingly interfering with the wet crude sounds that escape from the kid's mouth.

The frowning _Grandpa_ in question raises a bald eyebrow at the usual antics of the insistent lilac youth. Singed's innate reluctance to please anybody, however completely vanishes as the elderly retired chemist's eyes catch a quick glimpse of a timid furry boy's waging tail swirling in circles behind Mundo.

"Fine." The Mad Alchemist concedes with a sigh. Mundo and Warwick happily seating down in front of their grandfather's steampunk rocking chair. Singed wets his lips and clears his throat.

"It was a cold Zaunite winter night, harsh and frigid as any other one. The crooks and cutthroats of the dark city were shivering in their repugnant and nauseating alleyways, the chimneys of the steelwork factories were billowing black smoke into the air, expelling it like the counterfeit herbal cigarettes of broke drug addicts! Puffing illegal substances out of their shriveled up lungs!"

"The beggars where there too, of course, slumped against the pavements in front of all kinds of Hex-tech workshops and respectable stores that dark wretched night. Littering the streets like wounded cattle, their thin bodies propped against overflowing trash cans and flickering gas-powered streetlamps, their bandaged hands outstretched in a pleading gesture. "Could you spare a Cog for my son?" They would whine pathetically. "Please, Mister, I need some oil for my prosthetic limb." or "Hey, boyo, do you happen to be carrying any AA batteries in your person. If so can I have them, me good lad?"

"Didya -bleh- fix them, Grudpa?" Little Mundo inquires in an awed and curious tone."

"H-how old ago was that, Grandpa Singed?" Asks Warwick while furrowing his eyebrows. "People use Hex-tech cores to power things nowadays, I haven't even seen a bark-ttery in my whole life."

Singed minutely pauses in his narration to rub at his chin thoughtfully.

"Hmmm, I think it was around the time before Mugbook was invented, my boy."

"Baht Mughbook hath alwayth been dere, Gruhpa!" instantly protests Mundo with copious amounts of spittle flying around as the purple youth's enormous blue tongue swirls left and right in complete outrage. "Thaths like saying thath Starbutts dideth always exthist! Or that Hexth-phoneths onceth lacked a camerath!"

The elderly chemist simply replies with a nod of his shiny bald head as he pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and proceeds to wipe Mundo's saliva off his hairless face. Singed then squishes the stained cloth, resulting in a downpour of sticky liquid creating a puddle of drool beside the old chemist's favorite steampunk chair.

"That is exactly the case, my dear lad. Hex-phones didn't have a camera or a Taser attached to them when they were first invented. Much like how Starbutts stores only started popping out all over Runeterra when the Ionian folks took note of the Star Guardians' revealing attires and decided to make waitresses in skimpy costumes a thing. The world was a lot different from what it is right now at those times."

Both boys seem to be mulling over the old scientist's words, trying to imagine what the world would look like without cheap coffee and Hex-phone apps. Singed takes advantage of his audience's silence to resume telling his story.

"Ahem, as I was saying, the night was as cold and inky as your grandmother's leaden heart. The wind was howling like little 'arwick does when he steps on a Lego. Yet not everyone in Zaun was asleep, or at least passed out with neon needles shoved in various parts of their bodies. Oh, no! For you see, my lads, even at these late hours of the smog-choked night an ingenious scientist was tirelessly working for the betterment of our city-state in his brewery!"

"Whath was he making, Grudpa?" The younger of the two enticed boys interrupts the Mad Chemist's story once more.

"A potent new potion, my child," Singed merely replies matter-of-factly. "An alchemical concoction worthy of A Viktor Award!"

Both naïve children gasp in astonishment at that last part. Mundo and Warwick had learned about the illustrious Viktor Award from various gossip magazines and trashy Hex-TV shows.

"Like special lotions for dyeing the hair of androids, Grandpa Singed?!" Warwick gaps in awe.

"A magicalth pothion capa-bleh! of making even Mundo speakth like a normalth parthon?!"

"No, Warwick.. Something a lot more important than that. And Mundo… that is impossible," Singed pats the head of the frowning purple kid. "Not even a thousand Soraka ulties can help you with your terrible speech impairment. We've been through this before, just focus on becoming a doctor and forget your futile dream of becoming a radio announcer. Think of all the good you will do to our beloved city-state."

The burly young boy contemplates the idea for a few seconds before a slouched drooling smile forms in the lips of the young purple Zaunite. "Doctarh Mundo!" The blue-tongued boy suddenly exclaims, spiting more saliva against Singed's face.

The retired chemist sighs in response and Singed is still in the process of wiping his face when the front door closes with a soft hissing sound.

"Grandma/ Grudma Camille!" The two strange boys chirp happily, rushing to hug the smiling white-haired woman's wrist while carefully avoiding touching the razor-sharp blades of her mechanical legs."

Camille simply smiles faintly and reciprocates the children's heartfelt embrace. Singed slowly approaches his beloved wife as he gently shoos the two rascals away. The Mad Chemist also throws a small tennis ball behind his back, to make sure that Warwick will be preoccupied chasing it, and vice versa Mundo will be chasing down Warwick, and so the two boys will let his exhausted wife relax after a long day with a glass of wine. Singed's storytelling can wait for a couple of minutes.

"So, how was your work today, Honey?" The chemist asks kindly as he searches for a clean glass in the kitchen's cupboards. The exhausted surgeon settles down in a modern metal chair near the hovering table that hums gently while remaining suspended a good two feet above the ground.

"Sigh. Utterly exhausting, my love." The frowning surgeon replies as she accepts the wine glass that Singed is offering her with a thankful look. "I had to operate on four patients today and a cyborg, my feet are killing me."

Camille's husband mutely nods his head in acknowledgment. Singed then reveals a big industrial rasp. "How about a leg massage?" The retired chemist asks his wife seductively.

Camille spares a glance at the kitchen's door, wondering if Warwick and Mundo are in trouble. When a few moments slip by and the surgeon has yet to hear of wolfish howls of pain or indistinguishable shouted sentences, Camille bites at her bottom lip coyly.

"Just for a while, my love…" The Steel Shadow finally relents. Singed is already rasping the side of Camille's blades. Camille moans in pleasure.


	131. Screecher Cell

**Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the Johnny Cash song Hurt and I am not making any profit from using it in this fiction.**

 **Tags: Game trailer, violence, song fiction.**

There are excited murmurs of anticipation as the young brunette woman climbs onto the stage and smiles brightly at the crowd of gamers attending the E4 convention. The lights dim considerably as a purple company logo with a swirl appears in the big screen behind the smiling presenter. The audience starts cheering and clapping enthusiastically.

"Hello, I am Quinn Featherhead, game director for Screecher Cell Conviction."

The crowd goes wild and Quinn has to wait for almost a full minute for the cheering and the clapping to stop, before she can continue with the game's presentation.

"Once upon a time, my team and I dreamed of creating a game. Not just any game of course, but a real masterpiece that would shed light into what it truly means to be a predator, a vulture, a bird of prey. A graceful and beautiful, loyal avian assassin."

There is another wave of loud applause, but this time the young brunette politely motions for the audience to calm down and let her continue.

"The road to perfection was a long and treacherous one. No other company had ever succeeded or even attempted to introduce the freedom of flight to the degree that our development team intended to introduce with Screecher Cell Conviction. Fluid combat so intense and satisfying that would make you feel like a bird. Technical difficulties and other problems had to be overcome during those four long years we have been building this stunning masterpiece. A new game engine was created just for the purpose of bringing this breathtaking game to you. Without further ado, I present to you Screecher Cell Conviction!"

The audience draws a collective breath as the lights dim even more and Quinn steps aside so as to not obscure the game trailer that starts playing in front of the audience.

 **Cue Johnny Cash- Hurt**

The video starts by showing a close-up shot of the striking amber eyes of a majestic blue eagle. Valor stares right back at the camera, his gaze heavy with bitterness, the burdens of life seemingly weighting down on him. The former fire that once burned brightly in the great eagle's eyes now looks to have been completely extinguished. Forever.

 _ **I hurt myself today**_

 _ **To see if I still feel**_

The scene changes again to present us with a close-up shot of Valor's spread wings in dark tones of grey. The majestic eagle lies down on the ground, unmotivated and motionless. Some of Valor's plumage scattered about his prone form. Valor's chest moves as he sighs.

 _ **I focus on the pain  
The only thing that's real**_

The camera shows us a black puddle of blood with inky droplet falling in it from somewhere above. The plunging droplets creating ephemeral onyx ripples in the black liquid's surface.

 _ **The needle tears a hole  
The old familiar sting**_

Back inside Valor's faded grey eyes, the shadows form animated shades from the distant past. A bird and a little girl playing together in a sunny green field. The young eagle happily retrieving the wooden stick that its owner throws towards the sky.

 _ **Try to kill it all away  
But I remember everything**_

The camera shifts to a dusty photograph set on the table. It is the photo of a young woman, but the sunlight that enters the room is falling directly onto the woman's grinning face, creating a shiny refection that hides most of the girl's facial features. Only her innocent and kind smile can be seen in the shot. Valor's eyes solemnly move from the framed picture of his deceased owner to the hard floorboards bellow him.

 _ **What have I become  
My sweetest friend**_

Valor sighs deeply. The grey eyes close, smothering the ghosts of his memories and the smile of the young woman in the frame behind his drooping eyelids. The viewer is left in the dark as the scene fades.

 _ **Everyone I know goes away  
In the end**_

The tempo of the music rises dramatically. Another close-up of Valor greets the viewer, but this time when the camera starts moving backwards widening the shot we notice that Valor is flying, heading straight for a private jet. More specifically, towards the engine of the flying vehicle…

We briefly see an elderly man drinking wine inside the jet, his red-eyed raven perched on his shoulder. The man smiles sinisterly.

 _ **And you could have it all  
My empire of dirt**_

Sudden shift to Valor tearing out the neck of a bodyguard with his talons, blood flying everywhere as Swain stares at the vengeful eagle in sheer horror. Another bodyguard rushes to intercept the angry eagle, gunshots ring as bullets open holes in the airframe of the private jet.

 _ **I will let you down  
I will make you hurt**_

Swain begs for his life mutely as he stares into the murderous eyes of his feathery assailant. The crime kingpin's lips are moving, but only the music in the background can be heard for some reason. Valor slowly approaches the collapsed man and raises his bloodied talons to strike.

 _ **I wear this crown of thorns  
Upon my liar's chair**_

The jet starts rapidly descending. One of the dead bodyguards had accidentally shot the pilot that bled out. Swain and Valor wrestle with each other, their bodies bouncing against the interior of the small airplane as the ground comes closer and closer. The private jet is quaking and groaning as it plunges down.

 _ **Full of broken thoughts  
I cannot repair**_

Swain gains the upper hand in the fight and starts strangling Valor. The eagle retaliates by grabbing the crime kingpin's chin with his talons and pushing Swain's head backwards. The loyal bird takes advantage of Swain being distracted by the pain to grab the wine bottle that had miraculously survived the flight so far with a wing and break it against the mobster's exposed forehead. Swain lets the avian go with a howl of pain.

 _ **Beneath the stains of time  
The feelings disappear**_

It is now Valor's turn to attempt strangling Swain with his feet. The dazed mobster starts frantically punching at the eagle's azure wings. Unlike Swain, however and despite the pain of the mobster's punches, Valor refuses to let go, enduring the onslaught of the crime kingpin's blows. A green plain is spreading underneath the falling airplane.

 _ **You are someone else  
I am still right here**_

The small flying vehicle is now just a few hundred feet off the ground and it keeps diving lower. There is madness and hate in Valor's eyes and the eagle keeps squeezing at Swain's neck tighter and tighter. Swain's frantic movements are slowly ceasing.

 _ **What have I become  
My sweetest friend**_

The elderly mobster finally expires with a terrible choked croak. The light in his eyes fades away, his arms drop at his sides. Valor glances at the cockpit of the falling aircraft only to realize that the airplane is about to violently crash into a plain.

 _ **If I could start again  
A million miles away**_

The jet hits the ground with unimaginable force, the body of the aircraft shatters with a thunderous explosion. Fire and shards of hot metal rain down across the plain, the biggest chunks of the private jet being grinded against the hard ground, diggings crude brown lines against the green canvas of the mountain plain.

 _ **I would keep myself  
I would find a way**_

A few azure feathers fall down from the sky, spinning and dancing across the sky, mixing with the black smoke of the plane crash. High up in the sky, Valor surveys the crash site with cold amber eyes. The logo of Noobisoft winks at the audience cheekily.

One by one the birds in the conference room get up from their seats and start clapping their wings together.

* * *

 **Writer's note:** I was initially going to write about Assassin's Beak, but I picked a less dynamic and linear song than I should have for such a trailer, and then I was inspired to write this one. Assassin's Beak is the spin-off of Noobisoft's beloved and highly successful game series Assassin's Greed. That eagle in the series keeps getting ignored and so Noobisoft decided to be fair for once and let EZio GGWP step away from the spotlight and let the bird be the protagonist of the next game. In Assassin's Beak you play as a highly trained and cunning bird and your objective is to do everything in your power to help the goofy and clumsy assassin that is your partner escape from the Templars when he inevitably messes up. The character customization is the strong point of the series, you can pick from over a hundred different species of birds to create your own assassin. Arm them with a deadly arsenal of potential projectiles you can drop from the sky to distract or kill your adversaries, including but not limited to: smoke bombs, bird droppings, daggers, smaller birds, eggs, porn magazines, rocks, Quinn, arrows and RP cards. The subtitles on the other hand are terrible, they look like chicken scratch.


	132. Vegan

**A curious thought lodged itself into Drawing's head as Drawing did Drawing things before having their Drawing nap nap time. What does Zyra think of vegetarians? And thus sleep was postponed for a bit longer.**

*Thunk* the gleaming weapon of Shyvana, the Half-Dragon descends with a terrible sound upon its defenseless prey, piercing supple green flesh with ease. The pierced bodies, hanging by the strange silver trident of the Demacian champion are lifted over the gaping abyss of the dragoness' open jaws. The doomed children disappear as Shyvana's teeth close around their fragile forms. For the life of her, Zyra is too terrified to confront the Demacian.

*Fwoosh* The mangled remains of twisted limbs are ushered to a porcelain arena that's filled with the carcasses of other deceased life forms. The lifeblood of a chubby yellow child rains down upon the desecrated corpses of the innocent.

"Hey, Lux, would you like some salad?" A male voice wonders from somewhere close to the stunned Rise of the Thorns.

"Sure!" Replies Lux.

Once more the dreaded bowl changes hands, more of Zyra's slain brethren are placed on the round pedestals on the table.

"How about some grated carrot salad too?" Ask Garen.

"I guess so?" Answers Lux as she eyes a second bowl.

The heinous butcher smiles at his sister adoringly. Zyra watches in horror as a big glass container is set before her new friends. Was this why the Demacians had invited her to have brunch with them today? Were they also planning to eat her after the humans were done stabbing lettuces and strangling lemons? Would the other champions in the Mess Hall aid her if the Demacian savages suddenly turned on her?

"How about you, Zyra?" The scary juggernaut glances at the plant mage intently. "Would you like some salad?"

"P-please…" The redheaded mage finds herself begging fearfully as she locks eyes with the hulking leader of the humans' _vegetable hunting party_. Garen does that weird gesture where a person shows another person their teeth, and then dumps a big spoonful of torn leaves onto the green woman's plate.

Zyra's startled eyes follow Luxanna's alarming motions as the usually friendly and charming light mage proceeds to sprinkle lemon juice all over the mangled bodies of green. Lux then leans forward and shows Zyra her teeth much like the armored titan had done a few moments earlier. The rest of the Demacian champions mimic that action, all of them watching the poor plant mage with calculating stares and intrigued eyes.

Zyra swallows audibly. She flashes her teeth at the party of hunters and when that doesn't satisfy them she closes her eyes and lifts a shaky forkful of fresh salad towards her quivering lips. A sole tear slides down Zyra's sweaty visage as the plant mage hesitantly bites into the vegetables and swallows them with some difficulty.

"Oh! She likes it! Look guys! Look how happy Zyra is!" The blonde she-devil quips when she spots the plant mage's tears. "You can have as much you want, Zyra." The traitorous woman beams at the plant mage. "So eat as much salad as you like!"

Garen promptly deposits more vegetables on the plant mage's plate.

* * *

 **Writer's note: That awkward moment when you are searching for the file named Zyra that you want to upload amongst your files and you feel proud when you realize that the file is at the end of the folder since Zed is the last letter of the English alphabet after Yorick. Can I double my pun points if I mention that the alphabet goes W, X, Why Zed? The question I ask my teammates in ranked all the time when they pick a third assassin in our team comp. The answer they usually give me is: ?  
**


	133. The escaped experiment

**Rated M for mentions of Yuri, adult themes and violence.**

* * *

When the Headhunters arrive at the secret Zaunite research facility they only discover the bruised bodies of the defeated security guards splayed upon the wet floor, shuddering groans of pain occasionally escaping from the split lips of the collapsed soldiers.

Caitlyn, the Headhunters' unofficial leader mutedly motions for the rest of the mercenaries to investigate. The party splits up as the mercenaries search for clues to uncover the identity of the foolish daredevils that had the guts to attack the high-profile research facility.

The spinning red lights and the normally blaring sirens of the secret laboratories' alarm system are eerily silent as the small party of hired guns makes its way deeper into the underground complex. There are more defeated security guards here, attempting to stand up on shaky feet and limping peculiarly as they tiredly wobble towards the exit. The armed personnel's faces speak of great discomfort, a hint of embarrassment and immense exhaustion.

Rengar momentary pauses to kneel by a puddle of transparent fluid on the floor that catches the Vastayan's attention. When the mighty Headhunter takes a quick sniff of the unknown substance, the furry tracker's nose scrunches up in distaste.

"You are _finally_ here!" The scowling silhouette of a bald man in a long white lab coat suddenly emerges from the trashed hallways, storming towards the hunters with a furious sneer on his face. Singed rudely shoves a limping woman out of his way, before hastily approaching the band of frowning mercenaries.

"What happened here?" Caitlyn decides to voice the question in every Headhunter's mind. The sharpshooter's stormy lilac eyes wander inquisitively across the abundance of scattered glass shards on the floor and the grey metal walls that bare signs of brutal five-fingered slash marks.

"What do _you_ think happened, hunter?! A project escaped, that much should be obvious even to an uncouth individual such as you!" The vile researcher hisses, clearly aggravated as Singed gestures widely at the sorry state of the damaged corridor. Caitlyn simply raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, prompting the bald cretin to continue and reveal who attacked the Zaunite laboratories.

Being privy to the knowledge that with every spare second wasted there subject 2D was putting more and more distance between herself and the research labs, Singed has no other choice but to explain the situation to the brunette sharpshooter.

"A Yuri Knight managed to escape from the lower levels due to a malfunctioning chip in its collar." The displeased scientist admits after a second. "I want it found immediately and brought back here for purging!" Singed grits between clenched teeth and Caitlyn nods her head affirmatively as the Headhunters swiftly depart from the compromised compound.

* * *

0000

"Nidalee, do you have eyes on subject 2D?"

Narrowed eyes inspect the dark forest.

"Not yet." Is the Bestial Huntress' laconic reply.

Nidalee's gaze carefully scans the dense vegetation for any sign of the runaway Yuri as the hardened mercenary moves stealthily between black tree barks and feeble, thorny bushes.

The forest around Nidalee is strangely quiet, the dexterous huntress notes. No owls hoot in the night perched on tall tree branches, or insects chirp in the dark and things crawl behind foliages. Wild animals are quite rare so close to Zaun, that is certainly true. Nidalee of course knows that, the logical explanation for the unnerving silence that surrounds the experienced tracker somewhat alleviates some of the mercenary's tension as the female Headhunter searches for recent footprints and signs of stomped grass among the hunched trees.

"Roger that, keep your eyes open for the Yuri." The coms go quiet and Nidalee rolls her eyes exasperatedly as her fingers leave the receive button of her headgear. Not even a moment later a humanoid projectile suddenly takes a surprising swipe at the Headhunter's exposed back.

"Fuck!" Nidalee hisses in pain as she combat rolls away from the deadly talons that chip her green armor and deploys her spear in one fluid motion. The dark silhouette of her ruthless attacker sinks back into the shadows at the exact same moment that Nidalee whips her body around with narrowed eyes and her javelin in hand.

Tension floods the atmosphere like oxygen fills the panting chest of the crouched huntress. Nidalee quickly inspect the blurry dark shapes of the still tree barks that effectively obscure the tracker's field of vision. The protruding black shapes of the bushes stand before the Headhunter ominously. The looming shadows that shroud the quiet forest in onyx paint stare back at her with pure malice.

*Fwoosh* A dark shape abruptly darts behind the tense mercenary. At a moment's notice Nidalee's spear is buried half-way into the rustling foliages of the thick bush. A pained scream emanates from the shadowy barks and the thick vegetation all around her. Instantly, Nidalee grabs a small metal cylinder from her belt and presses a concealed button, swiftly deploying her secondary spear. Simultaneously, the Headhunter reaches for the miniature blinking button in her dead intercom.

"Caitlyn, I think I have found the runaway test subject."

Nidalee's visage visibly pales when the only response that the huntress receives is the telltale static of bad reception.

"Caitlyn, do you copy? I am engaged in combat with subject 2D! I need backup!"

The momentary lapse in the mercenary's concentration prevents the distressed huntress from sensing the incoming blow that impacts her left side until it is already too late. The sophisticated Hex-tech spear unwittingly slips from the mercenary's grip as a powerful blow sends the unprepared huntress flying into a tree at least four meters away from Nid's prior position.

"Argh!" Nidalee groans as she searches for the hazy shape of her trusty weapon and spots it lying on the forest's floor, just a few meters away from her reach. The Headhunter grits her teeth as she starts crawling towards the Hex-tech spear.

"Caitlyn! Do you read?! I need help! I need backup ASAP!"

The cruel buzzing of static wells from the Bestial Huntress' offline earpiece. Nidalee curses under her breath as she drags her bruised body across the grass. She hastily extends a hand to get a hold of her spear. Surprisingly enough -even for the pessimistic Nidalee- no follow-up attack comes from the shadows and the prone mercenary unexpectedly succeeds in her daring endeavor. The tracker's gloved digits hastily wrap around the cool metal shaft of the collapsible javelin. Yet, the hunter's weapon simply refuses to budge from the ground! _The bare light purple foot that's stomping on the Hex-tech weapon's shaft might be the cause of that undesirable outcome,_ Nidalee inwardly muses.

The startled Headhunter's wide orbs stare bewilderedly at the clear droplets of saliva that drip on the ground in front of her. The sticky substance keeps falling down quietly from somewhere above. And when the defeated mercenary finally gathers the courage to force her panicked gaze to climb upwards, Nidalee discovers something truly alarming and horrifying. For it is not the upper mouth of the naked female dragon-hybrid that is drooling as one would expect, but the southern pair of lips that is located significantly lower on the runaway experiment's body. The Half-Dragon Yuri Knight is salivating at the sight of the terrified mercenary splayed on the soft grass in front of her.

Mere seconds later, Shyvana descends upon her wide-eyed quarry with frightening speed and primal lust, planting a rough kiss against the lips of the stunned tracker. A terrifying roar rises high above the dark treetops, scaring away the mutated birds that perch upon the branches of the polluted trees. The rest of the Headhunters, scattered across the woods as they are, grip their weapons tighter and take defensive positions when they hear the challenging sound…

Caitlyn abruptly freezes with her gaze fixed at the dark night sky. The mercenary leader's stern visage adopting a light dusting of faint rouge. Slowly, ever so slowly and with hues of warm pink still decorating Caitlyn's fair complexion, the Headhunter Queen tentatively grabs the small heart-shaped locket that hangs around her neck from a leather strap and opens it.

"Poor Nidalee." The former Sheriff of Piltover mutters sympathetically with a small wince when another triumphant roar joins the first one in the night sky.

The older Headhunter's fingers tenderly caress the smiling picture of her pink-haired wife inside the locket.

' _It is certainly true,'_ Caitlyn muses quietly to herself while Nidalee's frantic moans and breathless screams continue emanating from the charcoal sea of pointy treetops, ' _No female Headhunter will ever forget their fist Yuri-capturing assignment. This job literally consumes us.'_

 _"PULL YOUR DAMN TONGUE OUT OF THERE YOU DUMB BEAST!"_

 _The End_

* * *

 **Writer's Note: That was a fun little writing experiment. I hid all kinds of puns and innuendos in the descriptions that lead to the climatic climax of the story (heh) that would only make sense when the true colors of the plot would be revealed. Damp floors, shaky feet, wobbling, bruises, exhaustion, Singed pushing away one of the female guards that Shyvana 'defeated', split lips... The Alien-like scene with the dripping drool. A false path of breadcrumbs that was designed to mislead the reader. Tell me if you spotted the wordplay in your first read.  
**


	134. Caitlyn Coyote

**Tags: Cartoon Humor. Vi, Caitlyn.  
**

* * *

The story begins at the familiar waiting room of Piltover's police station. Handcuffed crooks and nervous eyewitnesses can be seen resting on the numerous orange rows of uncomfortable plastic chairs. The deputies at the front desk can be seen franticly answering phone calls and filling long forms behind Plexiglas dividers. Suddenly a blur of movement enters the room. The speedy projectile momentary freezes to reveal a female police officer with a VI tattoo on her face.

 **Pinkous Rumbustious,** a simple yellow caption declares above the humanoid comet.

The flow of time then continues, Vi dashes madly, shoving people out of her way as she tries to clear the hall as fast as possible. The pinkette has barely the time to dive into a side corridor when a second hurried individual bursts out of an office.

 **Sheriffous Methodicous,** the new caption declares in blocky letters **.**

"Come back here, Vi!" Caitlyn commands as she chases after the fleeing enforcer.

The other occupants of the waiting room merely roll their eyes and return back to their previous activities. The vast majority- if not the entirety of Piltover's population having long since gotten used to the dynamic duo's antics.

/

The new scene opens at an empty police station corridor. Caitlyn is meticulously placing cigarettes on the floor, putting down paper cylinders in a straight line in order to create a clear path of nicotine that stops before an armed bear trap. The crafty Sheriff conceals the trap by covering it with sheets of Vi's pending paperwork and then carefully puts a whole pack of cigarettes on the bear trap's center.

After inspecting her handiwork, Caitlyn stalks off to the farthest corner of the narrow corridor. She then takes a hold of her hat and stretches it. The cunning sheriff proceeds to place the hat on the floor with its opening facing upwards and jumps inside it to hide from Vi.

A few minutes later a familiar pair of nostrils peek out from behind an adjacent wall. The pink-haired enforcer sniffs at the air inquisitively before spotting the fallen cigarettes. In a moment's notice and without pausing to ponder why all those cigarettes were there int the first place Vi starts gathering the small cylinders, shoving them happily in her pockets. Caitlyn observes her quarry from her hiding spot inside her giant top hat. Only the devious policewoman's eyes can be seen protruding from inside the fortress of purple fabric. The seconds tick by as the blissfully oblivious bruiser slowly moves closer and closer to the concealed iron jaws and the pain of betrayal.

Vi raises a scarred eyebrow upon spotting the crumpled reports that she usually stuffs in the file cabinets of the other deputies, or she hides in her personal locker. Suspicious eyes roam across the 'deserted' hallway searching for the thunderous expression of her uptight superior. Caitlyn dives deeper into her hat, the older policewoman's eyes disappear from view. A few tense moments pass in relative as Caitlyn waits to see if the uncivilized pinkette will take the bait and trigger the trap. And then!

"Oh well." The sheriff hears Vi's voice coming from the center of the empty hallway. There is a sound of crumpled papers getting displaced and a moment of tense silence follows, before a clinking noise can be heard and Vi sighs in audible contentment. Heavy footsteps lead away from the camouflaged bear trap and Caitlyn's hiding stop. The puzzled policewoman decides to inspect her surroundings. Only to quickly discover that both the pack of cigarettes and her partner are missing.

Utterly confused, the sheriff climbs out of the giant hat, she shrinks it back to its normal size and puts it on her head as she moves to the center of the corridor. Caitlyn nudges the trap with the tip of her boot. Nothing happens.

She pokes at the bear trap with a little more force than before. No change there.

Angry at the fact that Vi is probably stinking up their office with the smokes that she regrettably received from her, Caitlyn starts stomping at the defective bear trap, repetitively hopping at its center whilst muttering hashed curses.

 ***SNAP!***

A sharp snapping sound abruptly graces the hallway making Caitlyn freezes. Slowly, ever so slowly the policewoman's gaze sinks downwards. A short moment later Caitlyn is mutedly screaming inside her hat that expands and bloats like a great balloon.

"Beep! Beep!" Vi dashes from one side of the corridor to the other with five lit cigarettes balancing haphazardly between her lips. Vi returns back, she teasingly squeezes Caitlyn's nose like a horn and then runs away once more.

The good sheriff murmurs and growls, she spits unintelligible words and death threats. Caitlyn starts spinning in place as her face turns an angry shade of red and steam escapes noisily from her ears.


	135. Snippet Collection 4

**Leona x Diana. Fantasy setting.**

* * *

Leona can clearly remember the first time she had laid eyes on the pale woman with the white veil. It was nighttime, late enough for the crickets to come out of hiding and the smaller animals of the forest to retire in their nests for the night.

The full moon was shining brightly overhead, shedding its argent light across the glistering river where Leona and the other elven children that had come of age were undergoing their rite of passage.

The auburn-haired beauty can still recall how her heartbeat was beating like a war drum as her fingers plunged blindly into the frigid water. All around her, boys and girls of approximately 20 summers were diving into the waist-deep water searching for the seeds of the Tunteet flower. Desperate to grasp the fragile seeds that could reveal to them their kindled spirit amongst the elven folk before the river's low temperature inevitably dispelled the seeds' unique magic.

The water had been freezing cold that night. Desperation was thick in the air. The light provided by the silver moon and the playing fireflies nearby was enough for the young elves to find their way home if they chose to abandon their task, but not helpful enough to aid them in their frantic search for the tiny brown objects.

As such, the presence of warriors nearby was necessary to guarantee no foul play amongst the newly adolescent elves. Not that the young adults would ever result in stealing the precious seeds from their peers. Of course not, that would only bring shame to the couple that had stolen the Tunteet flower seeds and shame their union. Still, the presence of the adult sentinels added an air of importance and discipline to the mystical ritual of the seed-picking.

Illuminated by the soft moonlight, the stoic sentinels kept a vigilant eye on the squelching bodies that were partially submerged in the water. Silent like the trees and twice as patient, the guardians' frames stood proudly amongst the ancient trees.

The appearance of the warriors was expected and thus hadn't fazed the tanned girl, not even for a moment. The inexplicable presence of the moon priestess on the other hand had effectively rendered Leona speechless.

The sound of the clear water spilling towards the Azure Lake had abruptly ceased. The splashing of eager palms and the sharp inhaling of aspiring divers had faded like in a dream.

For a short moment that felt like an eternity to the auburn-haired initiate, the Veiled Woman had been the only thing that existed in the world.

Leona's eyes had been instinctively drawn to the pure white garbs of the pale priestess shifting lethargically below the water. The flawless milky epidermis of the moon's chosen, so unlike Leona's own sun-kissed skin had utterly captivated and mesmerized the tanned elf. It was like Leona was suddenly discovering a new species of elf for the first time in history. A superior life form that was to the other forest elves the same as swans were to the thieving crows.

Seconds had ticked by in silence as Leona had motionlessly watched the godly being half-way submerge herself into the freezing water of the river. The pale woman's hands slowly outstretching towards the silver orb in the night sky above. Leona had been too embarrassed to admit it afterwards, but at that time the tanned adolescent elf had completely forgotten about the seed-picking ritual.

Leona's outmost attention was focused on the white piece of fabric that concealed the moon priestess' face from the top of her head to the defined curve of her lips. The tanned initiate had never despised a handful of spider silk so much in her life before that point. The soft-looking veil that hid the priestess' visage could as well be an ivory wall as far as Leona was concerned.

And then the moon priestess had finished her prayer and a horn had rang in the distance. The seed-picking ritual had ended and Leona had nothing to show for her efforts. Only the image of the pale woman burned into her mind's eye.

As if suddenly awaking from a pleasant dream the tanned elf blinks owlishly as her eyes dart to the dejected silhouettes of her peers that swim solemnly towards the shore. The lucky elves that have found their seeds leaving the riverbank with satisfied smiles on their faces.

And why wouldn't they?

 _They_ hadn't been distracted by the arrival of the pale woman and wasted their time gawking at her like fish on the shore. Dejected eyes slowly return back to her mournful reflection, that's glaring at herself angrily from the water. Tiny green sparks are slowly rising to the surface as the seeds of the Tunteet flower that haven't been picked up by an acolyte turn into mana to nurture the great forest. The next harvest of the magical seeds would be in twenty summers from that very night.

Leona's kindred spirit won't be able to recognize her until then. They might even leave their tribe in order to become adventurers and perish in some dungeon without the two of them having exchanged a single word with each other.

 _Splash,_ a droplet of water creates a small ripple across Leona's reflection.

 _Splash,_ the heartbroken woman lowers a trembling hand to touch an emerald spark with the tip of her finger. Leona stares sternly into the tearstained face on the water, too angry with herself for her stupidity, too hollow and empty to leave the sacred river.

 _Splash,_ the ripples find a new object to crush against.

 _Splash,_ Leona raises her tearstained eyes when the hem of an ivory dress made from soft spider silk abruptly disturbs her solemn reflection with a light movement.

The moon priestess is standing right next to her now, her unseen gaze scrutinizing her behind the thin white cloth. A pale milky hand slowly emerges from beneath the frigid water, holding a tiny Tunteet seed for Leona to take.

"C-can I really take this seed?" The sun-kissed elf mouths in a croaky and hesitant voice. _Is this allowed?_ Leona wonders. Shouldn't every participant of the rite gather their own Tunteet flower seed?

The moon priestess doesn't reply, but she doesn't withdraw her hand with the offered brown seed either.

"T-thank you." The tanned elven woman's heart almost splits from her swelling gratitude.

With a hitched breath and a shaky hand Leona carefully places three of her fingers against the precious object that's resting on ivory flesh. The Tunteet seed shatters under her touch. And Leona is about to cry out in despair when a fragile blue flower blooms in the brown husk's place. Much like what always happens in the romantic tales of her parents and her tribe's ancient, sacred legends. The tanned maiden raises her eyes to meet the obscured visage of her moon priestess.

 **Tunteet means affection in the Finnish Language. I don't own Finnish or Finland. In fact I don't own any county, yet. It is a work in progress.**

* * *

 **Peter Pantheon. Inspired by the timeless Peter Pan movie. Comedy.**

Peter Pantheon crosses his arms in front of his chest stubbornly. "I don't believe in junglers."

Lulu gasps "But Pantheon! Don't say those words. Every time you do a jungler goes AFK!"

"Well, that's okay with me, since junglers are not even real!" The lost child insists. Somewhere in a match taking place in the Summoners' Rift Lee Sin throws down his jungle item.

"I quit!" The Blind Monk shouts and then walks away.

Later…

Pantheon sniffles, knelt down beside a wrinkled picture of Silver Division. He gently runs his fingers across the dark gray emblem, tears running down his cheeks as the sky above him booms with the roar of thunder.

"I-I… I do believe in junglers." Pantheon sniffles mournfully.

 ***Crackle*** The first droplets of water land on the old picture. Pantheon only sniffles louder.

"I do… I do…"

 ***Crackle*** The knelt boy raises its eyes towards the sky and bellows in defiance. "I do believe in junglers, I do, I do!"

Miles away from the crying Lost Child Lulu joins her hands as if she is praying. "I believe in junglers," The purple yordle whispers. "They are real."

"I do believe in junglers!" Tryndamere pauses as he extends his hand towards an 0/10/0 Udyr. After a short moment of hesitation the bearded man clasps the barbarian's hand and stands up determinately. "I do! I do!"

 ***Crackle*** The sudden shower turns into a mighty downpour.

"I do believe in junglers!" Lissandra mutters as she votes no on the surrender vote. A few second later Sejuani reconnects in the game.

"I do believe in junglers! I do! I do!" On his way to the cinema Lee Sin notices a poster about his new skin that is under development and drops his red and blue glasses to rush back to the jungle. He has a match to win.

"I DO BELIEVE IN JUNGLERS! I DO! I DO!" An outnumbered Irelia screams at the top of her lungs as she fights a losing battle to protect her Nexus from five fed marksmen.

"I DO BELIEVE IN JUNGLERS! I DO! I DO!" Somewhere, in a low Elo match the blue team is about to slay the baron. Mere seconds before they do so they stop for a quick celebratory dance. The enemy Fiddlesticks accidentally attacks the blasting plant which shoots him into the Baron pit. In his confusion and shock Fiddles silences the blue team's tank, the crow then bounces off to Baron slaying the legendary monster.

"I do believe in junglers, hur hur hur." Gangplank chuckles as he eyes his new buffs. Nidalee's smoking corpse laying a few feet away from the fearsome pirate.

Clenching against Pantheon's heart, the faded picture of the Silver Division starts turning from dark gray to light silver.

"I do believe in junglers! I do! I do!" Swain slams his fist on the oaken table garnering looks of incredulousness and surprise from the other members of the Noxian war council.

"You are out of your mind, Jericho!" LeBlanc exclaims alarmed.

"I do believe in junglers! I do! I do!" An Ionian Summoner wins an official League match, dominating his opponent with AP Leona in the top lane while carrying Heal and Smite. Hundreds of people attempt to imitate him, gutting Leona's win rate.

"I do believe in junglers! I do! I do!" The crest in the wrinkled picture adopts a faint golden hue as the rain finally stops. Pantheon slowly gets up on his feet and stares at the clear sky with unwavering conviction. Syndra, Pantheon's mid laner then goes AFK because Master Yi 'stole' her blue buff.

* * *

 **Brotherhood of the Watching Eye. Fantasy, Humor.**

The room is utterly dark save for the handful of half-melted candles burning on the rotted chandelier hanging above the stone table. The shadows dance and writhe as the hooded acolytes shift in their seats and converse with each other. Suddenly a hulking figure enters the underground room.

"Her holiness, Lifegiver!" The huge man barks and the murmurs of the cultists abruptly cease. Braum steps aside so a less imposing member can claim her seat on the round table. The flickering light of the candles momentary catches the angular surface of an ivory horn as Soraka seats beside a grinning catfish with his hood let down.

"Brothers…" The horned woman mutters as she lightly bows her head in respect. A few of the hooded men reciprocate the gesture.

"Sisters…" The celestial healer continues as she repeats the same motion. More of the hooded acolytes bow their heads before the serene speaker.

"With everyone present I would like to announce the beginning of today's meeting!"

The Starchild pauses as she slowly raises her left arm, the dark sleeve of her black robe slides down revealing the bloodied axe of the late Olaf. In one swift motion, the chipped axe descends on a golden disk. The weapon produces a dull threatening sound like the cough of a murderer.

"Please present to us your religious symbols." Soraka commands after a while. One by one the hooded members of the cult of The Watching Eye stab their wards against the hard stone.

Not two Watching Eyes look the same under the sickly glow of the dying candles. Some of the wards are green whereas others are blue or purple. Some of them seem to be a part of a full set, whereas others look crude and uninspired.

All of the magical talismans presented in the underground chamber are without exception worn-out from use. All save for one, that is…

The cult leader's golden eyes instantly narrow when Soraka spots the pristine ward set amongst the weathered ones. Her suspicious gaze climbs from the incriminating item to the member's dark robes and the obscuring cowl that shields their face.

"What is this?" The Matron of the Watching Eye inquires whilst pointing at the clearly unused ward. "This Holy Symbol hasn't seen use in the battlefield! Your _Eye_ has yet to pierce the darkness of the Eternal Battlegrounds."

"I got no blind spots." The hooded cultist replies even as suspicious murmurs bleed into the dimly lit chamber.

"You need the Rift-Eye's protection!" Soraka hisses under her breath. "Supporting means methodically orchestrating the next bloodbath, not flinging spells and waving your staff blindly! Think of all those screaming lumps of gold that will be escaping you without proper map vision!"

"Can't lose sight of 'em." The acolyte grunts darkly. There is a strange underlying sound echoing behind the suspicious man's words. A unique timbre like a dangerous sea current, the unnerving reverberation of a severed soul.

"Remove your hood." Soraka commands with an air of authority. The hooded man only looks at her intently, biding their time. Then, without a warning a jagged skinning knife is flung towards the celestial cult leader.

What feels like a hundred different shield form in front the stunned Starchild. The skinning knife bounces off the first two barriers and unceremoniously falls on the table. Faster than Soraka and her faithful can react, the hooded man sinks into the cracked cobblestone of the floor and disappears from sight.

Soraka just stares flabbergasted at the upturned stool where the hooded man used to seat.

"An assassin," Soraka whispers tensely. "We have an assassin in our midst."

* * *

 **So we can learn to pick ourselves up. Batman tribute.**

"Master Valor! Master Valor, are you okay!"

The frantic voice of Quinn, the collapsed eagle's beloved butler pierces the grudging silence of the collapsed tunnel. Valor blinks owlishly as he attempts to remove his face from the dusty floor. Rubble, sharp rocks and darkness stretching all around him.

The little eagle's breath hitches when a terrible pain shoots up his left leg. Valor whimpers softly as he glimpses towards the collapsed entrance of the tunnel.

Where once stood a sturdy entrance with a rusty wire netting to discourage trespassers, only an earthen hole big enough for him to crawl out from remains. Quinn won't be able to save him this time. He is on his own.

"Master Valor…" Quinn tries softly. The female butler's voice reaching Valor's ears through the miniature headset that is somehow still attached to the blue bird's head.

"C-caw?" The little eagle exhales fearfully.

"I know that things look bad right now and that you are afraid of the dark, but I believe in you. I know that you can get out of this hole through your own power."

"Caw Caw?"

"Yes, I am telling you the truth, Valor."

Valor tries to get up again, but his foot isn't moving properly. Doubt floods the azure eagle's mind.

"Why do we fall, Master Valor?" The female butler's voice brings back memories of a heartfelt conversation between the two that had taken place about a week ago near Waying manor's lit fireplace.

"Caw… Caw…" Valor huffs slowly.

"I said: why do we fall, Master Valor?"

The azure eagle huffs once more.

"Caw. Caw, caw, caw, caw." He responds with conviction this time.

"Very well."

Valor can almost hear Quinn's smile from the speakers of his headset. Without any more delay, the little blue bird starts crawling towards the light of the exit.


	136. Justice was served

**Summary:** The popular band Pentakill visits a small town and the musicians decide to give a concert for their fans there. Food providers all across town send their employees to the stadium where the concert takes place in order to cash in on the gathering of some many potential customers in one place. Things don't go as planned.

* * *

 ***Step, step, step***

Pizza Delivery Sivir does her best to balance a dozen or so white pizza boxes in her arms as she makes her way towards the crowded football field that's located near the edge of town. The panting brunette keeps her eyes glued to the circular structure as she pants and huffs from exhaustion. Sweat starts beading across Sivir's forehead from the strain of carrying all those pizza boxes to the stadium on foot. Where was her beloved motorbike when she needed it? Of course the damn thing had to break down yesterday, why wouldn't it?

The sound of loud music reverberating against her eardrums shortly brings Sivir back to the realm of reality. The unnerving pulsating of the pavement beneath the delivery woman's feet having become a simple annoyance at this point of time, since Sivir had been steadily approaching the quaking stadium for about ten minutes now.

The popular metal band Pentakill had for some reason decided to include the little town of Bassfield in their list of stops during the band's long trip to the Guitar Arena up north for the upcoming Rock-ED competition. Being a cunning businessman, and well-versed in the ways of exploiting situations to his advantage, Sivir's boss had ordered her and some of her unfortunate coworkers to bring a few pizzas to the crowded stadium where the band had decided to entertain the town with their music.

The plan was quite simple: Sivir and co. just had to take advantage of the townsfolk's enthusiasm over Pentakill's unexpected concert to overcharge every slice of pizza they would manage to sell to the band's loyal fans.

'Everything was fair in love and sales,' or at least that's what Sivir's employer had proclaimed.

The sound of screeching vocals and deafening drums could be heard coming from the direction of the football field from miles away as Sivir slowly made her way to the circular structure. Only a few minutes now, and the delivery woman would be rid of the weight of her numerous pizza boxes! Sivir would then sell the unhealthy food to some applauding teenagers and overly-excited hardcore Pentakill fans, and then be free to enjoy the concert herself under the pretense of her running late due to her searching for hungry customers.

Sivir dully wondered how many of her underpaid coworkers would use that same excuse to relax and take a long-deserved break from running all over town delivering pizzas.

The panting brunette had nearly reached the moderate stadium's gates when the sight of a competitor makes Sivir abruptly stop dead in her tracks. The delivery girl's eyes snap wide open in alarm, staring at her new sells-rival over the dangerously tilting stack of plain pizza boxes.

"First bite approaches." Leona drawls.

A quiet confrontation of wills begins as the two opponents stare down at one another to the sound of Pentakill's superb music scores. Both food providers wait in silence. Neither one of them seemingly inclined to back down from the imminent confrontation and casually accept defeat. Neither one of them willing to risk upsetting their tyrannical employers by forfeiting their stadium sales.

The stack of pizza boxes is carefully set on the ground as the determined delivery girl cracks her neck from side to side and removes a single pepperoni pizza from the stack's top box.

Her opponent glares at her seethingly while slamming her long fork to the operating grill that she apparently uses as a makeshift shield.

The auburn-haired cook spits on the ground in front of Sivir. The Delivery girl tsks in distaste.

And then as one, both Sivir and Barbecue Leona, charge at each other with challenging battle cries spilling from their lips and their bodies surging forward with the promise of bloodshed.

0000

Leona's charge abruptly turns into a violent spin as the auburn-haired cook thrusts her long fork at the presumptuous pizza girl, the red, grilled sausage hooked on the fork's pointy end becoming a scarlet blur of rapid movement. Sivir ducks low and attempts to slap Leona with the pepperoni pizza she holds in her hand, only for Leona to sidestep the attack, dodging the blow effortlessly.

Both opponents pivot on the balls of their feet, swinging their chosen weapons at one another at the same time.

 ***Slam***

The iron fork and the round disk of the pizza collide, meat juice and pieces of food falling off the sausage pinned at the tip of the long fork and grease spilling forth from Sivir's pepperoni pizza. The two enemies seize each other up with their stares while circling each other. Anger boiling in their heads, greed dancing in their eyes.

The bitter _sales rivals_ are about to launch their respective attacks when a shiny silver object -something between a serving platter and a food tray- hits Sivir on the back of the head instantly knocking her out. Like a broken puppet the unconscious woman falls on the floor, red streaks of pepperoni dramatically sliding off her pizza…

"Feel my tray." A sultry voice hisses venomously.

Leona doesn't have the time to celebrate the demise of the pizza girl since the next moment the same silver platter that had taken Sivir out of the fight shoots towards the auburn-haired cook's surprised face.

Leona blocks the hit with her grill-shield and attempts to counterattack with her fork only for a thrown apple pie to unexpectedly hit her in the face, momentarily blinding her and rendering her incapable of defending from her opponent's next attack. Morgana cackles evilly as her silver platter knocks out the defenseless auburn-haired cook in a single strike that echoes ominously despite the loud music.

"Serve in my torment!" The fallen angel laughs mockingly.

The baking queen is still in the process of checking her platter for new dents, and dusting off her long purple mittens when a hulking form suddenly emerges from the nearby bushes. And those were some really TALL bushes, mind you. Even Morgana was currently wondering why nobody had bothered trimming them before they reached that state. What was the town's mayor doing with the taxpayers' money!

The man –if one could even call the baking queen's next adversary that- was a stone-faced gargoyle that's wearing a flabby chicken suit, his weapon of choice appearing to be a set of fried chicken drumsticks.

"Crunch!" The construct exclaims.

Before Morgana can catch her breath, one of the drumsticks races towards her chest. Crunchy flesh spiraling down to spell her doom. Grease flashing in front of her like oily lightning.

The baking queen has barely enough time to raise her platter and deflect the attack before the drumstick's twin sibling comes crushing down on her unguarded shoulder.

Time seems to slow down as the golden crust of Galio's drumstick makes contact with the baking queen's clothes. Fragrant pieces of crunchy goodness bouncing off Morgana's shoulder in slow motion, lazily spinning and hovering quietly in the air much like stardust being suspended in deep space.

Morgana's eyes, wide in disbelief, follow the trajectory of the scattered morsels during that long moment, staring dumbfounded at the clear trail of cooking oil left behind on her dress at the point of contact witch Galio's deadly drumstick. The suspended second stretches thin then. The baking queen's eyes narrowing in silent fury as Morgana takes a few steps back and calms down her breathing.

The fallen angel takes a quick breath of fresh air and stands with her serving tray held loosely near the ground. All of Morgana's muscles preparing for Galio's next attack. The masquerade warrior regards the strange woman with confusion even as Morgana slowly gestures for the stone-faced mascot to attack her by coiling and straightening her fingers.

Once again the unsung guardian of Azir's junk food chain swings his drumsticks at the baking queen of Bassfield. Morgana parries the first blow with her serving tray, instantly stepping into Galio's guard to slam an elbow against his granite stomach. The scornful woman's attack seems to cause more damage to Morgana herself, however than the costumed gargoyle that continues swinging at the female baker with his trusty drumsticks of flavor.

Morgana dances away from Galio's wild swings, using her platter to parry some of the blows while delivering her own ineffective attacks whenever the opportunity presents itself. Galio however doesn't ease on his assault and before long Morgana is left groaning on the ground, smeared with grease and fat, utterly defeated.

A swooshing sound of movement is the only warning the costumed gargoyle gets before a sashimi knife descends towards his face. Galio parries the lightning-quick stab with one of his drumsticks, only for a series of speedy attacks to be unleashed upon the sturdy gargoyle as a result.

With unmatched precision and unimaginable speed Akali stabs, slashes and chops at the hulking fast food mascot, her glinting sashimi knife leaving slash marks across Galio's drumsticks, damaging the mascot's makeshift clubs and chipping off pieces of their golden flesh in the process.

"Hesitation is the seaweed of defeat." Akali states flatly whilst attacking.

As the defending gargoyle hastily retreats in order to avoid the worst of Akali's onslaught of speedy slashes, he accidentally stumbles on a discarded soda bottle on the floor, briefly losing his footing. The sushi expert twists her entire body narrowly avoiding his wild swing as she dexterously jolts the edge of her cooking knife towards the recovering fast food employee.

Once again in slow motion, the deadly tip of the cook's wickedly-sharp blade skips across the crunchy fried flesh of Galio's parrying drumstick in a sideway motion, carving a long line against the drumstick's roundish surface the blade continues its lethal course. The very tip of the sashimi knife lightly biting into Galio's, hard cheek creating a thin scratch against the gargoyle's grey face.

Wisely, Galio disengages with a mighty flap of his wings that compels the sushi chef to retreat to a safe distance to avoid being hit by Birdio's fake plumage.

"Bring it on!" The confident voice of an, as of yet, unidentified individual rings from the sky above Galio and Akali, causing the two opponents to jump back, narrowly avoiding the overhead strike of the new challenger.

Shish Kebab King _Jax_ flourishes his gigantic skewer masterfully, spilling hot meat juice across the floor as he adopts his signature battle stance. Akali and Galio share a quick look before preparing their own weapons and steeling their resolves.

"Who wants a piece of the Kebab?!" Jax taunts his competitors.

The three combatants draw in a deep breath and leap forward to the sound of Pentakill's music.

Meat juice, spicy sauce and the occasional grain of rice raining down on the stained pavement.


	137. Working Vi

**Summary: After finding her way out of Zaun and bribing her way into Piltover Vi finds a tedious job in Piltover's market district.**

* * *

It was rush hour at Piltover. Both couples and preoccupied passersby were strolling about, creating a shifting current of moving bodies and bobbing heads. Automatons, scientists and bedazzled groups of tourists walking purposefully amongst the busy shops of the buzzing market district. Towering buildings made of metal, concrete and glass casting their long shadows onto the smaller shops where the passersby wandered by.

Piltover was a peculiar city, a manmade yard of cultivated ingenuity even. Yet despite its technological miracles and the plethora of prestigious institutes that were woven amidst the streets of the illustrious city-state, the people of Piltover had the same basic needs as any other city and established human settlement in History.

Piltover's lifeblood, her army of tinkerers, her legion of scholars, her numerous craftsmen and chem-distillers, her alchemists and artificers and even the ruffians that sold illegal drugs in dimly lit alleyways, were in need of proper sustenance. Even Heimerdinger for all the Revered Inventor's intellectual pursuits and unprecedented intelligence couldn't just work on groundbreaking ideas and new concepts alone.

Everybody in the City of Progress needed sustenance, be it hextech crystals, or fuel, or machine oil or a fatty burger cooked by a particular yellow steam golem.

Blitzcrank's fine establishment could provide all of the above. He and another sentient automaton named Orianna manned the kitchen and the cash register of the fast food restaurant, respectively. Built near the center of the always crowded market district ' _Grease and Oil'_ was becoming quite popular with both the permanent residents of the bustling city-state and the visitors that traveled there for business.

It wasn't long before the two sentient constructs and proud owners of Grease and Oil had decided to launch an advertising campaign and hire somebody to attract customers from the street.

That's how Vi, an unemployed bruiser from the rougher parts of Zaun had found herself waving at limply and handing out leaflets to strangers while wearing a foam costume shaped in the likeness of the Great Steam Golem.

' _I hate my life'_ thought the unenthusiastic pink-haired mascot as she made some mute beckoning motions towards a group of laughing teenagers that just so happened to be walking near Grease  & Oil. Vi did her best to restrain herself and somehow managed to refrain from punching the pampered uptown brats when said teenagers proceeded to merely ignore the open door of the restaurant… and walked by the pinkette while beeping at her like robots.

"Mommy, mommy, look! It ish Blitzcrant the Gweat Steam Golem!" Gushed a blonde-haired girl as she dragged her grimacing mom near Vi. The tall pinkette in the robot costume and the stern office worker share an awkward look over the child's head. After a short moment of quiet contemplation Vi spreads her arms widely in a 'Tada!' Fashion. Almost instantly the little girl cheers and giggles as she hugs the Zaunite mascot's leg.

"Blishcrank!" The little girl giggles cutely. Vi slowly pats the kid on the head awkwardly under the scrutinizing glare of the child's unimpressed mother. Since speaking would break character, and _would_ more importantly reveal that she isn't in fact Blitzcrank, the tall pinkette starts shrugging and holding her belly as if she is chuckling soundlessly.

"Is your sound emeter bwoken Mister Crank? Perhaps I can fix it!" Wonders out loud the little girl as she attempts to climb onto Vi and take a look inside the fake robot's mouth that serves as the helmet's visor. Fortunately for the rapidly sweating mascot of Grease and Oil, the child's mother finally decides to intervene, lifting the little girl in her arms before the young girl has the chance to unwittingly expose Vi.

"Say goodbye to Mister Blitzcrank, honey. We are leaving." The stern office worker prompts her daughter and the little girl pouts before grudgingly waving her hand towards Vi.

"Bye, bye Mistar Blishcrank!" Quips the young child and the Great Foam Golem responds with a rigid salute and another mute, exaggerated fit of laughter. Vi waits until the two of them disappear from her sight, before she allows herself to sigh in relief and turn around to greet other potential customers.

Only for the Zaunite bruiser to abruptly freeze in her tracks when she suddenly comes face to helmet with none other than the workaholic Sheriff of Piltover who's currently regarding her present get-up with an odd look of mild interest. Being on Piltover's wanted list for petty crimes such as stealing food from the market stands, Vi's first instinct is to run. The brash pinkette unexpectedly succeeds in reining in her panic, however, and steels her resolve, trying to act normal. Feigning nonchalance at Caitlyn's proximity, Vi turns fully towards the brunette Sheriff, bowing her head in a show of respect in order to hide her wide eyes, the only part of the panicked Zaunite's features visible from within the cartoonish visor of the pale-gold helmet.

As the bruiser bows her head curtly, Vi's bulging aquamarine orbs catch the glint of the modified rifle slung on Caitlyn's shoulder. The orphan street rat inwardly thanks her lucky stars for not running away upon first making eye contact with the prim and proper policewoman.

"There is no need for bows and pleasantries, random law-abiding citizen," Caitlyn greets Vi while producing a wanted poster with a very familiar face printed on it. "I merely need to inquire of you the following question: have you perhaps seen this woman?"

The foam golem takes its time examining the portrait of the rather fetching -in Vi's opinion anyways- Zaunite street punk before shaking its head left and right.

"I see," The brunette Sheriff nods as she folds the wanted poster and puts it back in the pocket of her dress. "You should remain vigilant," Caitlyn continues. "This criminal has been frequently sighted around the market district. Cogs know what troublesome crimes she could be up to."

Sweating profusely inside her suffocating robot suit, Vi nods her head vigorously while the brunette policewoman scans the crowd for any signs of the disguised bruiser. The two of them stand side by side for a few minutes with Caitlyn examining the passersby suspiciously and the pinkette mascot shifting nervously next to the workaholic brunette.

"It seems like the reports of the criminal's sightings were absurdly exaggerated." Caitlyn hums thoughtfully when she doesn't spot the wanted criminal amidst the crowds. The cunning detective's eyes minutely sliding towards the fake android that's currently performing some kind of celebratory dance next to her. The foam robot freezes when the brunette cop turns her head its way.

"Stop doing that next to me while I am trying to think." The Piltovian woman scowls at the nervous foam automaton. "I am not one of the children that visit your establishment to be entertained by such foolish displays. There is a time for playing make-believe and a time for seriousness. Learn to read the mood."

Caitlyn sighs in exasperation when the fake golem's only response is an uncertain shrug of the shoulders.

"Anyways. Remember to abide by the Law. Be polite to those around you and keep the city safe and clean. Be sure to separate recyclable rubbish from non-recyclable waste and put them in the appropriate bins each morning."

'Blitzcrank' bobs his head zealously, although the false android's mannerisms and the robot's doubtful body language obviously hint at the pink-haired mascot's complete lack of comprehension behind the spongy yellow visor. A group of utterly oblivious kids continue playing with a miniature hovering disc nearby, laughing and yelling while hurling the mechanical toy at one another.

Caitlyn just sighs when the foamy robot doesn't reply verbally. The hulking children entertainer turned unhelpful police informant was really dedicated to their trade it seemed. With her job as an authoritative figure that's upholding justice and baking cupcakes done for the time being, the brunette policewoman strolls away from the visibly shaken android.

Vi exhales heavily, one foamy arm resting against her blocky breastplate. The Zaunite bruiser's massaging her thundering heart while watching Caitlyn walk away -probably intending to reprimand the laughing youngsters nearby for causing a commotion or irritating the tourists.

The daring Sheriff of Piltover is only a few paces away from the Great Steam Golem's popular restaurant when the sound of a weird popping noise and a sudden draft of wind overhead draw the posh woman's attention. The detective's narrowed eyes slowly wander back to the ridiculous foam golem from before.

The mascot's eyes are open wide in sheer terror, gazing at her through the small gap in the suit's spongy helmet. Vi remains motionless, her face pale. The Zaunite bruiser's expression appearing lost, utterly confused, definitely disbelieving. Both pairs of eyes follow the thick foam cord connecting the disguised pinkette's yellow gauntlet to the missing hand of the borrowed suit. The missing hand that's currently holding the Sheriff's signature top hat in its grasp and is lazily rolling back into the previously concealed socket of the fake golem's forearm. When the foamy appendage attaches itself to the costume's wrist once more, Blitzcrank's robotic laughter emanates from a pair of concealed speakers at the back of the mascot suit. Vi swallows her spit audibly, the pinkette's blood turning into icy water. Wide blue orbs meeting hard chips of angry brown.

The Sheriff's already sharp and unfriendly gaze abruptly turns murderous.

"Wait wait, wait! Time-out! I didn't mean to do that! It was an accident, I swear!"  
Vi's appeasing words and even more frantic gestures go completely ignored by the vexed brunette sniper as Caitlyn unslings her sniper rifle in a quick motion and snaps the rifle's barrel at the retreating mascot, cautiously. Blitzcrank's prerecorded laughter dying out with a crackle of static.

"Remove your mask." Caitlyn orders Vi coldly. The pink-haired punk raises her hands in the air, Vi's wide blue eyes scanning the forming circle of startled pedestrians for a possible escape route. The ceaseless current of wandering tourists and actual residents of the City of Progress creating an anxious pocket of murmuring civilians around the Zaunite mascot and the city's favorite Law enforcer. The group of playing children near the unlikely duo also halting in their energetic activities when they spot the cause of the sudden disturbance.

"Remove the mask! Kneel on the ground!" Caitlyn repeats heatedly as she slides the rifle's safety off, the policewoman's grip on her handle tightening considerably when the rowdy pinkette doesn't comply at once with her shouted commands. With the dark pit of the modified barrel of the best sharpshooter in Valoran staring down her face, Vi slowly grips the foam helmet of her suit intending to remove it.

Caitlyn tenses as the robot's head starts rising ever so slowly, the faintest sign of pink bangs peeking from between the spongy material. A little hand suddenly shoots up in the air.

"She is bullying Blitzcrank!" One of the nearby kids that are observing the pinkette's imminent arrest screams while pointing an accusing finger at Caitlyn. The brunette detective blinks owlishly, young children of Zaunite and Piltovian descent breaking out of the crowd to stand in front of the masquerading criminal.

"Don't bully Misteh Blishcwank!" A little boy less than seven years of age with two missing front teeth scolds Caitlyn while tugging at the hem of her purple dress.

"Pway nice Miss Shewiff!" Agrees the pouting daughter of a visiting Demacian diplomat while glaring daggers at the stunned policewoman from in-between the protective wall of her panting bodyguards. The armed, rugged men heaving and groaning from the strain of what must be at least a dozen of heavy boxes, all of them barring the insignias of famous Piltovian tailors and successful toymakers. "Stop being a meanie or I am going to tell my daddy about it!"

Vi slams the helmet back on her head at a moment's notice.

"This is isn't Blitzcrank!" Yells Caitlyn over the protests of the gathered children. "She is Vi, a dangerous wanted criminal. She is just wearing a robot suit, don't be fooled by her tricks!"

The flashing of cameras erupt from amidst the crowd, beaming journalists and despicable news reporters alike smelling tomorrow's headlines like sharks sniffing blood in the water.

"Did the Sheriff just call the children fools!?" Asks a chubby bespectacled journalist while scribbling down notes on his notepad, furiously.

"Yes, she did!" Answers a newsman, hysterically. The balding gentleman standing on the tips of his toes while using the camera of his hex-phone to snap a few 'commemorative' photographs.

"My Danny isn't a fool, you big snob!" Snarls a concerned mother while smothering her son in her chest. "Just because he was homeschooled and didn't sturdy at a big Hextech University like you rich folk, doesn't mean that he's stupid, you cow! Stop attacking him for being different!"

"I am not attacking anyone." Caitlyn growls between her teeth in frustration, simultaneously trying to appease the crowd and keep the retreating criminal in her sight. "That woman is a wanted criminal and I am trying to apprehend her. Look closely children, she is not the real Blitzcrank. It is just a suit."

Cautiously, some of the children turn towards the stealthily retreating pinkette, looking at her expectantly. Vi freezes when the crowd's attention is once again directed at her. A sea of hopeful, naïve eyes parts before her ready to swallow her. Soul-crushing guilt floods her system.

"Is that true Mister Blitz?" Sniffles a six year old girl while staring at Vi uncertainly, clutching a teddy bear in her hands. The girl's wet orbs appearing huge and swimming with unshed tears "Are you not Mister Blitzcrank…?"

"Don't let the mean Sheriff talk to you this way!" A tanned, Zaunite street rat nudges the panicking pinkette encouragingly. "Prove to her that you are the real Blitz, Boss!" Urges the grinning kid "Make the uptown smarty-pants eat her own words, Blitzcrank!"

"Yeah, _'Blitzcrank'_ ," Caitlyn's eyes are akin to burning lakes as they glare at Vi, a vicious smile tugging at the corners of the markswoman's lips."Prove to me that you are the real deal. Show me the error of my ways and make me eat my words." Vi's doesn't miss the unnerving way the Sheriff keeps taping her finger on the rifle's trigger.

With a shaky arm and a silent prayer to every deity in Valoran Vi forms a trembling fist with her arm and slams it on the suit's foamy breastplate.

 ***Pop*** the suit's foamy appendage, hurls in the air punching an unfortunate individual that is crossing the street. The man collapses on the ground unconscious with a resounding thudding sound. The crowd goes deathly quiet. Vi's heart misses a beat.

The familiar recording of the laughing golem starts playing in the background as an aghast and resigned Vi locks eyes with a visibly furious Caitlyn. The two stare at each other in the resounding silence. And then! Without a warning the children burst into a fit of loud applause, raising their small arms in the air.

"It IS Blitzcrank!" They cheer as they cling to the tall foam golem. The Zaunite boy from before smiling smugly at the exasperated Sheriff whose left eye starts twitching angrily.

"She has proved nothing! That was a cheap parlor trick!" Shouts Caitlyn over the loud cheering, but the children, satisfied by the mascot's display, simply choose to ignore the policewoman's protests. "Come on, this isn't impressive at all. We live in Piltover for Cogs' sake! Hextech, automatons, flying cars, that detachable hand is just a gimmick!"

"Then you do it!" Challenges another Zaunite brat near the brunette whilst crossing its arms in front of its chest, and the livid female police officer groans when the adults and journalists start laughing. Then the Sheriff detects something alarming.

One of the grinning kids is currently in the processes of returning Vi her until then forgotten top hat after retrieving it from the ground near the fake golem.

"Don't you dare!" Hisses Caitlyn.

The pinkette smiles mischievously at the enraged brunette before propping the hat on her head on top of her spongy helmet. With the chuckling parents, booing children and yelling journalists rushing to swarm the peeved law enforcer, Vi decides to make her daring escape. Blitzcrank's robotic laugher accompanying her hurried footsteps.


	138. New origin story?

*Cawww Caaww Caaawwww*

The ominous silence that permeates the small settlement is the first thing that the hooded figure notices as it nears the village. The tell-tale clanging of the blacksmith's hammer in the forge is absent that misty morning. The carefree giggling of running children playing in the streets has already become a thing of the past. Dusty windows stare back at the unwelcome visitor of the rural village as the hooded girl walks along the central dirt road. Broken doorways sneering at her quietly from both sides of the deserted street, the houses' open maws gaping, seemingly ready to devour her. Their lipless mouths filled with splintered boards instead of actual teeth.

Cold as it is, with autumn giving its place to winter soon, the chimneys glare at the grey rainclouds above with empty gazes. Powerless through their lack of heat and smoky tears to shed for the woes of man, the square eyes let the moisture gather in their dry eye sockets.

As the cloaked figure walks forward with their head hanging low, taking in the signs of abandonment and ruin that keep appearing, the young woman comes across the first human body. Splayed motionlessly in the middle of the road, the rotting remains of a dead soldier draw the attention of the wary stranger. The man's curled protectively around a much smaller bundle of bloodied fresh, a discarded weapon lying uselessly by his side. The young woman's lips crease in displeasure under the shade of her weathered hood, her gloved fists tightening.

With tentative and slow footsteps born of the stranger's deep respect for the deceased duo's fate, the hooded woman kneels beside the fallen villagers and offers a short prayer for their safe passing in the next life. A few blonde tresses of pale blonde spilling out of the figure's black hood when Lux locks eyes with the unseeing gaze of the murdered soldier.

A heartbeat passes in silence. Lux finishes her prayer with a sad frown. The mage's gentle words fade in the freezing morning air. The sad maiden's foggy breath dissipating from the world like the fleeting ghost of a better future.

A mournful caw rings in the distance. Everything in the eerie settlement, save for the cloaked girl seems dead and unmoving.

The exiled spell caster sighs as she stands up, intent on continuing her long journey to the Ionian capital. The Noxian invaders could return at any moment to search for survivors, and Lux was wasting precious daylight. That simply won't do.

Abruptly, there is a strange new sound in the air. Sickly green light, so mesmerizing yet clearly impure is caressing the young woman's gloved fingertips. The corpse of the Ionian soldier stirs about on the ground before suddenly standing up. Numb and utterly pulseless fingers shift as they grip the broken shaft of a spear.

*Cawww Caaww Caaawwww*

The mangled raven from before screeches loudly once more above the Demacian mage. Mere seconds later, the undead creature lands of the shoulder of the exiled Crownguard, its sole milky eye seeking the aquamarine orbs of its solemn master.

"Scout the perimeter of the village for Noxians and bandits." The fair maiden commands the hideous bird. Lux's eyebrows furrowing momentary, hope fighting with rationality inside her ribcage. "… and find out if there is anyone here that can still be saved." Murmurs the blonde mage in a much softer and more vulnerable whisper. Underneath her black glove, the scorched mark that brands the exiled noblewoman as a heretic sends Luxana a sharp jolt of pain.

The undead raven tilts its head. It blinks twice and then flies away with a mournful screech.

Lux takes a last glance at the nightmarish creature before resuming her solitary walk. As if being controlled by some mysterious force the bloodied corpse of the Ionian soldier shuffles its feet clumsily. The undead Ionian twitches unnaturally while following the beckoning of the youthful necromancer potent magic.

* * *

 **Notes: So I have been wondering what would happen if Lux's magical talents manifested as something more dubious than harmless lightshows. Something that the Demacian council would instantly condemn instead of hypocritically trying to weaponize. So we got this snippet of exiled necromancer Lux wandering Ionia during the invasion, resurrecting fallen soldiers while traveling to ally herself with the defenders, and ultimately find her place in the world. Something, something, make her resurrect Irelia or Riven.  
**


End file.
